.'
 
 BY THE SAME AUTHOR 
 
 The Johnson Manor. A Tale of Olden Time in New York. 
 l6mo, cloth. $1.25. 
 
 " It is a clean, healthy, manly story. It introduces its reader into good com- 
 pany. Its pathos is genuine, and its feeling honest. There are portions of it 
 powerful for dramatic effect and sustained and .vigorous writing." Church 
 Journal. 
 
 " To the New Yorker, either by present residence or pasi association, the 
 volume will be full of peculiar interest, while the general reader will find in it 
 one of the most truthful, and at the same time most attractive pictures ever pre- 
 sented of the social life, the tone and temper of the early days of the American 
 revolution." Detroit Free Press. 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS, New York.
 
 SIBYL SPENCER 
 
 BY 
 
 JAMES KENT 
 
 THE AUTHOR OF THE "JOHNSON MANOR 
 
 " What's the plot of every novel? 
 
 What's the part of every play ? 
 What in cottage or in hovel, 
 
 Can drive dull care away ? 
 What gives her carriage to many a modern trip, 
 
 Making even marriage sometimes a state of bliss, 
 O c'est 1'amour 1'amour," etc., etc. 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS 
 
 182 FIFTH AVENUE 
 
 1878.
 
 COPYRIGHT, 
 
 1878, 
 By G. P. PUTNAM'S SONS.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 I. THE PARSONAGE 
 
 II. YES, OR No 
 
 III. FAST DAY 
 
 IV. SEAMAN'S RIGHTS 
 V. SALLY'S CHOICE 
 
 VI. EPH 
 
 VII. WAR OR PEACE? 
 
 VIII. A PRISONER 
 
 IX. MRS. QUINCEY . 
 
 X. THE APPEAL 
 
 XI. A QUIET RUBBER 
 
 XII. THE QUID NUNCS 
 
 XIII. FALLEN FROM GRACE 
 
 XIV. A WORD IN SEASON 
 XV. A LOVER'S QUARREL 
 
 XVI. THE HUDSON 
 
 XVII. THE SPY ... 
 
 XVIII. THE CONFESSION . 
 
 XXIX. WAVERING 
 
 XX. THE REVENGE . 
 
 XXI. LIFE OR DEATH 
 
 XXII. THE REPRIEVE . 
 
 XXIII. THE CANNY SCOTT . 
 
 XXIV. A WOMAN'S ESTIMATE 
 XXV. UNDER THE ELMS 
 
 XXVI. THE VISION 
 
 XXVII. LUNDY'S LANE . 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 PACK. 
 
 5 
 16 
 
 28 
 40 
 
 5i 
 62 
 
 75 
 
 109 
 119 
 
 132 
 
 H3 
 156 
 169 
 1 80 
 191 
 
 201 
 211 
 221 
 230 
 240 
 250 
 26l 
 272 
 282 
 293 
 303 
 
 1703624
 
 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 THE PARSONAGE. 
 
 "But most the ancients should engage 
 
 And fire my heart with classic rage, 
 Models of style, to nature true 
 
 With boldest art her form they drew." 
 
 ANONYMOUS. 
 
 | HE pious bounty of the founders of the con- 
 gregational church at D had endowed it 
 
 with some fifty acres of rich meadow land, 
 and had built for their pastor a large square 
 house. This house stood directly on the principal street, 
 and was separated from the church by the graveyard. 
 Neither of the two buildings was painted, and the cypress 
 shingles with which their sides were covered, had grown 
 gray with age. 
 
 The mossy head-stones in the churchyard, and the 
 gigantic elms which overshadowed them, gave an air of 
 antiquity uncommon in America. The ground at the rear 
 of the parsonage sloped gradually towards a little brook. 
 Groups of trees had been allowed to remain, permitting 
 vistas of the distant hills, and throwing long shadows, 
 pleasant to the eye, on this hot, sultry June morning.
 
 6 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 The house was divided into four square rooms, two on 
 each side of the hall. 
 
 The one on the right, as you entered, was the pastor's 
 study. From floor to ceiling, in every available nook and 
 cranny, the walls were clothed with books, not modern, 
 gayly-bound and flauntingly-covered volumes, but good, 
 honest, dusty, moth-eaten tomes. Ponderous books, which 
 must have descended from father to son for several gener- 
 ations. Books on controversial divinity, editions of the 
 " Fathers," classics, rare even then, and now almost price- 
 less. Bundles of pamphlets, carefully tied, labelled and 
 docketed, filled many of the shelves. Possessions which 
 would open many a secret of political and social life, now 
 closely veiled in the mists of antiquity. 
 
 An enormous fireplace filled up nearly one side of the 
 room, and the dogs or fire-irons were curiosities they 
 were of polished iron, and reached almost to the top of the 
 wooden mantel. This was of wood, carved with fruits 
 and flowers, interspersed with flutes, and harps and other 
 musical instruments in admirable confusion. 
 
 The furniture was scanty. A table, littered with books 
 of reference and documents, an old sofa covered with 
 horse hair, a few high-backed, uncomfortable chairs, and 
 one reading chair, the arm of which supported a desk, was 
 all the room contained, except two large globes, in leather 
 cases, to preserve them from injury. The occupants were 
 an elderly gentleman about seventy years old and a lady, 
 several years his junior, evidently husband and wife. The 
 man was in the dress of the clergyman of the period. A 
 long straight-cut black coat, black silk small-clothes, shoes 
 with large silver buckles, and a voluminous white cravat.
 
 THE PARSONAGE. 7 
 
 His shirt was ruffled, and he had likewise ruffles at his 
 wrists. He was above the middle height, slight in figure. 
 His hair was drawn in a queue and powdered, setting off 
 his marked and expressive features. His eyes were large 
 and dark, singularly mild and soft in their expression, 
 but with much sly fun and humor in them, as well as in 
 the lines of his handsome mouth. His teeth were beauti- 
 fully even and white. 
 
 There was intellectual power in the broad, high fore- 
 head, in the prominent nose and firm set jaws. 
 
 Dr. Spencer had sprung from a race of clergymen. 
 Father and grandfather had belonged to that profession : 
 learned, able and accomplished men. His tastes had been 
 scholastic from boyhood. Entering Yale College, he had 
 graduated at the head of his class in all branches of study. 
 
 For many years he had remained attached to that in- 
 stitution, first in the capacity of tutor, later as professor of 
 the dead languages. On the death of his father he had 
 
 been called to fill the pulpit at D . He was the third 
 
 in direct line who had occupied that position. 
 
 On his acceptance of it, the church gained one more 
 ornament, and literature suffered an irreparable loss. 
 
 At this period a heresy had broken out in Massachu- 
 setts which threatened to spread rapidly over Connecticut. 
 To meet this doctrine of " the Unity," the Congregational 
 Church put forth her mightiest efforts. 
 
 To all her learning, the profundity of her logic, her 
 moral ethics, and the revered names of her preachers and 
 writers, the strength of the secular arm was added. The 
 church could then dispossess her preachers not only forge 
 but launch the thunderbolt.
 
 8 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 James Spencer's profound learning, joined to his won- 
 derful delivery, placed him at once at the head of Synods 
 and Convocations. Moral and intellectual power he never 
 hesitated to wield. He could point with untrembling 
 ringer to theological punishments for heresy and unbelief. 
 The hell to which he condemned was the hell of the 
 future. But when the verdict had to be rendered which 
 would turn on the cold charity of the world the superan- 
 nuated minister, Dr. Spencer invariably relented, and the 
 bold divine who, the hour before, had fulminated all the 
 pains and penalties of spiritual wrath, now voted, argued 
 and entreated that the victim might remain, not to suffer, 
 but to repent. 
 
 There then existed a remnant of the severe Puritan, 
 scattered through New England, and the subordinate 
 offices of deacon and elder were generally filled from this 
 class. These would glow with spiritual pride at the ability 
 and learning, the power and influence which their pastor 
 displayed, and which was the theme of universal admira- 
 tion ; but it tried the intensity of their love to condone his 
 invariable tendency to mercy and loving kindness. 
 
 Mrs. Spencer had been in all respects a suitable match 
 in worldly circumstances and social position ; but it was 
 a match which had caused unfailing wonder to all his 
 friends. 
 
 The lady was naturally gentle and refined, and gifted 
 with a fair share of common sense. She was a more than 
 ordinarily shrewd and careful manager, and an adept in 
 making both ends meet, a most desirable quality in the 
 wife of a country clergyman. She was a good house- 
 keeper, a first-rate cook, and in " trade " was the equal of
 
 THE PARSONAGE. 9 
 
 any New England store-keeper. All these were qualities 
 which Mr. Spencer's friends knew or cared little about. 
 To the world at large she was only romantic and silly. 
 Proud and attached to her husband, whose intellectual 
 powers she appreciated, her chief aim was to bewail the 
 retirement in which he was kept, and in so doing, she 
 wounded the pride without arousing the sympathy of her 
 hearers. To her husband, she was a never-failing source 
 of exquisite mental enjoyment. He would sit for hours, 
 smiling at her platitudes, and enjoying keenly when she 
 was the victim of some small joke, coming, however, gal- 
 lantly to the rescue, when it ceased to be of the mildest 
 kind. He had a due appreciation of her common sense, 
 took her advice and followed it in all their business 
 affairs. They had each inherited a small property, which, 
 wisely managed and joined to the product of Dr. Spencer's 
 literary efforts, made them for the country and time more 
 than comfortable. 
 
 The idol of their hearts was their daughter Sibyl, now 
 a young woman of twenty-six. This idolatry was shown 
 in a manner characteristic of both. By the father, in the 
 mental and literary training which he bestowed upon her ; 
 by the mother, in planning and scheming some unusually 
 brilliant marriage for her. 
 
 Mrs. Spencer was sitting by the open window, enjoying 
 the soft June air, perfumed by the luxuriant climbing rose- 
 bush which shaded it. Her attention more directed to 
 he.r husband than to the household work which had fallen 
 in her lap. Dr. Spencer, seated by the table, was turning 
 over with absorbed interest the leaves of a new book, and 
 answering, evidently at random, the uninterrupted string of
 
 IO SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 questions which usually constituted the bulk of his wife's 
 conversation. 
 
 " Jeems," for so the lady always pronounced her hus- 
 band's Christian name "Jeems, do you not think it strange 
 Mr. Hamilton should remain so long in the parlor alone 
 with Sibyl ? How long do you think he has been there ? " 
 
 " About thirty years, I should say," muttered rather 
 than spoke the Doctor, catching only the name, and refer- 
 ring to the length of a friendship, not the duration of a 
 morning visit. 
 
 " Thirty years ! why Jeems, he came in just after break- 
 fast, don't you remember ? " 
 
 " Bless my soul, my dear, what are you talking about ? " 
 answered the Doctor. 
 
 " Why, Jeems, I was only saying how strange I thought 
 it that Mr. Hamilton should spend two hours alone in the 
 morning with our Sibyl." 
 
 " Well, my dear, what of that ? He often spends the 
 whole morning alone with me in this room." 
 
 " Do you think it possible he may be going to ask her, 
 Doctor ? " 
 
 " Ask her ? ask her what ? " replied the minister now 
 fully awakened. 
 
 " If she will be his wife, of course," said the lady. 
 " Just think, Jeems, she might live in the finest house in 
 the country, and go every year to Washington as a senator's 
 wife." 
 
 " Tush and fiddlesticks," answered the other, " he is 
 within fifteen years of being my age ; he has a daughter as 
 old as our child." 
 
 " Well, what of that, Jeems, would i't not be every thing
 
 THE PARSONAGE. II 
 
 for Sibyl ? Think of the position she would take, not only 
 in the society of this town, but in that of the entire country." 
 
 " My dear wife," said the old minister, rising and lay- 
 ing his hand affectionately on her shoulder, " we have 
 wintered and summered it together these thirty years, 
 we commenced life with the same hopes, wishes and pleas- 
 ures. Mated in heart as we were in years, we have grown 
 old together. Now do not let your foolish match-making 
 head run riot with you in planning for your only child what 
 will never happen. If Mr. Hamilton should be such a 
 fool as to ask our Sibyl to be his wife, I for one shall 
 humbly pray God she will say no." 
 
 He ceased speaking, a step was heard in the hall, the 
 door was thrown open, as if the new-comer was sure of 
 his welcome, and Edward Mason stood in the room. 
 
 " My boy, my own boy ! " exclaimed the Doctor, seizing 
 both hands only to relinquish them and fold him in his 
 arms. " What good fortune brought you here ? " 
 
 The old man's eyes glistened with pleasure, nor was 
 his wife backward in the warmth of her greeting. Edward 
 kissed the cheek she offered, but turned to grasp again, 
 and again, the hands the Doctor was never tired of ex- 
 tending. 
 
 " Come, come, unbuckle your news bag" he dragged, 
 as he spoke, a low chair from a corner, and placed it by 
 his own. 
 
 " Here, sit in your old seat. Now, what news do you 
 bring ? When did you get here ? How are you succeed- 
 ing? Have you forgotten your Greek? Oh ! what a baby 
 I am, I cannot contain myself for pleasure. Mother, 
 mother, call Sibyl."
 
 12 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " My daughter is at this moment engaged," said the 
 lady, bridling a little as she spoke. " She is receiving the 
 distinguished Mr. Hamilton." 
 
 The Doctor's face fell, and an ominous " Pshaw ! " ex- 
 pressed his discontent ; but the thought was soon forgotten 
 in the wild delight of seeing his favorite pupil, for such 
 Edward had been, and he pulled a worm-eaten volume 
 from the mass of books on the table, its parchment bind- 
 ing proclaiming it a classic, and said, 
 
 " I need not ask you, my dear boy ; you have followed 
 my advice, you have given at least three hours daily to the 
 ' Humanities,' as our Scotch cousins call the classics ? " 
 
 " Well, sir," answered Edward, " I have not always been 
 able to give quite that amount of time to study every day, 
 but I always allot some portion to either Greek or Latin." 
 
 " Good boy, good boy ! Let us improve the small 
 portion of time which a good Providence has given us on 
 earth," continued the Doctor, taking up his leg and nurs- 
 ing it tenderly, a happy smile beaming on his face. " It 
 was only this morning, before the heat and labor of the 
 day, that my thoughts were carried back to you. Yes, 
 yes. I was idly turning over the tenth Satire of Juvenal, 
 and I was led to compare the metrical version of the two 
 translations of Hodgson and Gifford, and I uttered aloud 
 the wish to have you once more here, that we might enjoy 
 the rich intellectual feast in scholarly company." 
 
 " I think, sir," said Edward, "you always gave the palm 
 to Mr. Gifford." 
 
 " I did, I did,'" said the Doctor, " although there are 
 defects in both. How, indeed, must an ear well instructed 
 miss the mighty roll of the hexameters ! And then the
 
 THE PARSONAGE. 13 
 
 barrenness of the translation, compared with the vigor, 
 the simplicity, one might almost say, the savage condensa- 
 tion, of the original." 
 
 " You never were fond of the paraphrase of Doctor 
 Johnson," said Edward. 
 
 " In a certain sense, my son, in a certain sense I was," 
 answered the Doctor. " But the word you used so cor- 
 rectly, 'paraphrase,' expresses fully my opinion; 'an ex- 
 planation in many words,' as the Lexicographer himself 
 renders the syllable. Now the great power of the Roman 
 satirist lies in his condensation. We will construe any 
 portion taken at random. Not that we shall be able in this 
 hasty way to arrive at any correct estimate of the poet. 
 Leaving for our future study to enter more at large." 
 
 The Doctor had gotten thus far in his literary disqui- 
 sition, when his wife, who fretted visibly at the turn the 
 conversation had taken, interrupted him by saying, 
 
 " Jeems, have you prepared your discourse for to-mor- 
 row? You know much will be expected of you, and as 
 there will be several distinguished strangers present, I 
 hope you will convince them, that although you are buried 
 in this little country town, you do not always idle away 
 your time in this manner." 
 
 The Doctor turned a quizzical glance first on his wife, 
 and then on his young friend, who was well used to these 
 little scenes. 
 
 " Few men in my profession, Edward, are blessed with 
 such a helpmeet, not only by the domestic fireside, but in 
 the labors of the pulpit. But she is right, I must devote 
 the short hour which remains, before the mid-day meal, to 
 revising the few remarks which this occasion of fasting
 
 14 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 and prayer presents. I wish to show my flock the dangers 
 to which rash resistance to even bad governments may 
 lead." 
 
 " My long absence, dear sir, has prevented me from 
 acquiring a knowledge of the temper of the people. Can 
 it be possible that so dangerous a crisis is at hand as your 
 words would imply ? " 
 
 " Dear boy, the very principles of free government are 
 at stake. The ' Habeas Corpus ' is about to be suspended. 
 Military law, and a thousand little acts heretofore known 
 only to the rule of kings, are being forced upon us. Per- 
 haps the men of Connecticut would have allowed even 
 these to pass unnoticed, had it not been for this attempt 
 to force the militia into the ranks of the regular army." 
 
 " But only as I understand, sir, to garrison the forts 
 and batteries of our harbors." 
 
 " Vain excuse. Would they have separated the sol- 
 diers from the officers to accomplish such an object only ? 
 When Israel of old went forth to war, the tribes mustered 
 under the command of their Captains, of fifties, of hun- 
 dreds and of thousands. Have not our fathers set up 
 here, in the wilderness, a purer and a holier Israel, built 
 on the new covenant ? Did not even I, weak vessel of clay 
 that I am, bear my part in the company of that goodly 
 man Captain Hezekiah Goodrich ? But I sin, I sin, words 
 of wrath and hate befit not the sacred garb I wear." 
 
 The old man rose from his chair and walked several 
 times up and down the room, his lips moving as if in 
 silent prayer. He stopped at length in front of Edward, 
 and said in a voice which quivered slightly, 
 
 " Edward Mason, thy father was unto me even as Jon-
 
 THE PARSONAGE. 15 
 
 athan was unto the son of Jesse. His last breath bade 
 me make thee a good man. In religion, in politics, in 
 learning, I have fully endeavored to carry out the charge. 
 The sages who built the constitution suffered many things 
 they liked not to enter therein, to obtain the one grand 
 object in view, ' a united nation.' Though we be lashed 
 with scorpions, yet will I speak unto them words of mercy 
 and loving kindness. Go, my son. It disturbs me. Find 
 Sibyl and play together as of old." 
 
 " Yet stay," for Edward had already turned towards the 
 door. 
 
 " Forget not, dear boy, to treasure up the waifs and 
 strays (if I may so express the idea) which are cast up on 
 the shores of the great ocean of human thought. It is 
 only in simple pleasures true happiness is found. The 
 excitement of the world, its gaudy pomps and shows, fade 
 like the lilies of the field. Cultivate, my boy, simple 
 tastes, love of nature, love for your fellow-man, and above 
 all, love of books. Remember what our favorite author 
 says: 
 
 " Inaudibly the foot of time steals swiftly by, 
 And ere we dream of manhood age is nigh."
 
 CHAPTER II. 
 
 YES, OR NO. 
 
 " Where did love come from ? 
 
 It came unsought, unsent 
 
 Where did love go to ? 
 
 It was not love that went," 
 & OLD SONG. 
 
 IBYL SPENCER was in her twenty-sixth year, 
 hardly above the middle height, slight and 
 graceful in figure. She had inherited her 
 father's deep brown eyes, soft and full, as well 
 as his flexible mouth. The masses of rich brown hair, 
 twisted as we see it in some Greek statues, seemed too 
 heavy for the slender throat. The magic which she ex- 
 ercised was that of manner. No matter in what society 
 or with what class of people she mingled, no one could 
 resist its inexpressible attractiveness. To this charm, so 
 rare, was added an education such as few women possess. 
 Her father, urged by his passion for teaching and love of 
 study, had devoted himself to the instruction of his only 
 child. Naturally quick, and with a retentive memory, she 
 became not only mistress of the literature of several mod- 
 ern languages, but a thorough classical scholar as well. 
 
 As she stood in the old-fashioned drawing-room, on 
 that bright summer morning, her pale intellectual face, 
 with only a tinge of color in the cheeks, lit up by the soul 
 
 16
 
 YES, OR NO. 17 
 
 which shone in her eyes, busying herself in arranging in a 
 quaint old flower-stand the wealth of June's roses, she 
 formed an object of most intense interest to a man just 
 passing beyond the prime of life. 
 
 Mr. Arthur Hamilton was considered not only in his 
 native State, but throughout the whole country, as a re- 
 markable man. His family was one of the very best, his 
 fortune perhaps the largest, his abilities of the highest 
 order among his contemporaries. All these combined to 
 make him the most prominent representative man in the 
 State of Connecticut. He had been for many years a mem- 
 ber of Congress. . Private affairs had induced him to re- 
 tire from the Senate, and the loss of no one member could 
 have caused more regret to the Federal party, of which 
 through life he had been a consistent and ardent adherent. 
 He still was a very handsome man, his eyes were bright, 
 his hair thick and curly, and only sprinkled with gray, and 
 his complexion fresh and vigorous. In figure he was tall 
 and powerful, inclining rather to what might be termed 
 portly. He dressed well, and his air, manners, and ap- 
 pearance were always those of a gentleman. Although he 
 was past fifty, Mrs. Spencer might be pardoned if she clung 
 to the hope of seeing her adored Sibyl the lady magnate of 
 the State. 
 
 It was the determination of bringing the half-concealed 
 courtship of years to a conclusion that had induced Mr. 
 Hamilton to make some rare flowers his excuse for this 
 morning's visit. Let no man, no matter what may be his 
 age, station or abilities, flatter himself he can conceal his 
 feelings from the quick eye of a woman. Nor, if she does 
 not wish the offer, will any mistake of hers pave the way, 
 
 2
 
 j8 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 or make this most terrible ordeal one whit the more easy. 
 The opportunity may be just what he wishes. They 
 are alone, safe from intrusion ; he has shown the most 
 adroit skill in preparing for the fatal word ; but that word, 
 and the woman knows as well as he does when he is about 
 to utter it, must be spoken with pain and suffering. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton had never told Sibyl that he loved her. 
 He was an old and attached friend of her father's. He 
 had held her on his knee a hundred times, had made her 
 presents ten times as costly as the flowers he now brought, 
 but the instant his hand touched the garden gate, Sibyl's 
 quick woman's instinct told her the dreaded moment had 
 come. She might postpone it for a time, but that morn- 
 ing must decide whether wealth, high position, a place in 
 the gay world, could buy a heart which belonged to an- 
 other, or should she try and turn an elderly but most 
 devoted lover, into a constant friend. 
 
 Knowing these things so well, can we wonder if Sibyl 
 postponed, by a hundred little winning ways, the disagree- 
 able moment when she must say no ! when that no must 
 mortify the feelings and wound the heart of a man she had 
 been accustomed to admire, to respect, and to love from 
 childhood. To love, did I say ? Yes, but not with the love 
 for which he asked. Yet why should not her affections 
 be won in time by one who, although no word of love had 
 ever passed his lips, she knew worshipped the very ground 
 on which she trod. It was not the mere difference in age, 
 for Sibyl was old for her years. 
 
 The half-seclusion in which she had lived, the constant 
 companionship of her father, the very course of education 
 which had been pursued, had tended to develop into
 
 YES, OR NO. ig 
 
 maturity a mind appreciative and high strung, and, to a 
 certain extent, poetic in its nature. Possessed of all the re- 
 quirements, she did not covet the superabundance of wealth. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton entered into the contest heavily weight- 
 ed. Who was his rival ? 
 
 Edward Mason was the son of the close, intimate col- 
 lege friend of Dr. Spencer. They had shared the same 
 rooms, had the same tastes, and were unto one another a.3 
 brothers. 
 
 Edward was his youngest child. It seemed to the 
 father as if the others were only born to die. The broken- 
 hearted parent saw one by one, son and daughter, de- 
 scend into the grave, followed by their mother, until Ed- 
 ward was left, the last of his family. On his death-bed 
 he confided him to the care of his friend, his only charge 
 being "Make him, if you can, a man like yourself." 
 
 Dr. Spencer gladly assumed the duty, and Edward was 
 treated and loved as his own son. He became Sibyl's 
 companion. She shared his studies, his sports, and his 
 short-lived sorrows. 
 
 Edward's singular ability made him acquire learning 
 with a rapidity which seemed like inspiration. After pass- 
 ing through Yale College, taking every honor, at once the 
 admiration and envy of his classmates, he entered a law 
 office in New York one of those cadets of fortune New 
 England annually sends out, the most valuable of her ex- 
 ports. 
 
 Edward had just enough money to keep him from star- 
 vation and to prompt him to exertion. In his manner 
 there was a self-assurance which in some degree militated 
 against his ever becoming a general favorite. His was,
 
 2O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 however, a generous, high-toned character, keenly alive to 
 any injustice and prone to take the opposition on any new 
 subject before he understood it, argumentative, and if any 
 thing, a little dogmatical. 
 
 Sibyl saw no fault in him. To her he was the adored 
 playmate of her childhood, the chosen companion of her 
 more mature years. ' 
 
 He spent all his vacations at the old house, and as he 
 grew in years so grew his love for her society. It never 
 entered- Edward's imagination to picture Sibyl as belong- 
 ing to another. When he had made a home, naturally she 
 would fill it. To Sibyl he had as yet never whispered love. 
 Was she content ? The sequel will show. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton had seen them grow up together, but 
 the long separation, the calm concentrated nature of the 
 girl, had checked the growing doubt as to his own success, 
 and if it did not stifle the bitter, jealous pain, still it did 
 not quench the faint hope he nourished. 
 
 No man, no matter what his age, ever thinks he has 
 ceased to be attractive to a woman. He may say so, he 
 may disclaim all idea of conquests in the future, but in his 
 inmost heart, he still nourishes the belief he can succeed. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton hesitated, faltered ; he commenced the 
 topic which was engrossing his thoughts, he stopped, in 
 short, he was deeply, truly in love. 
 
 It was provoking to be met at the outset by the calm 
 composed manner of his companion. She did not blush, 
 she did not become hysterical, on the contrary, her man- 
 ner was more gentle and affectionate than ever. She 
 shunned the topic, it was but natural, and he was too well 
 acquainted with woman's ways not to know that this argued 
 ill for his suit.
 
 YES, OR NO. 21 
 
 " My dear Sibyl," he said at last, " I shall not pretend 
 at my age to make protestations which would be neither 
 dignified nor true. I do not say you are the only woman 
 I have ever loved, but I do say, you are the only woman 
 who, for years, has had any hold upon my heart. I do not 
 ask you, if you love me as I do you, that the difference 
 in our years forbids, but I do ask, can you, will you, do 
 you care sufficiently for me to be my wife ? " 
 
 It is always the same we con over the subject, we 
 select the best chosen words to clothe the most appropri- 
 ate ideas, and invariably when the moment comes, it is, 
 can you ? will you ? do you ? 
 
 They had entered the house as Mr. Hamilton uttered 
 these words. Sibyl turned into the parlor, and stood rest- 
 ing her burden of flowers on the table. All passion had 
 left his face, the few moment's pause had restored the 
 calm air and manner of the man of the world. 
 
 Sibyl looked at him, and the thought crossed her mind, 
 he looked so noble in air and bearing how well some 
 other woman could love him. She paused so long, before 
 her reply, that he continued : 
 
 " Should you wish time for reflection or to consult your 
 parents, do not consider me. My feelings for you will 
 never change, and time will be, I fear, my only advocate." 
 He uttered the last few words with perhaps a tinge of 
 bitterness. 
 
 " I need no time," said Sibyl, her voice sweet and lowj 
 " my only delay in answering came from my unwillingness 
 to pain one whom I respect and love as much as I do 
 you." 
 
 " Then Sibyl, why pain me ? I am not as romantic as
 
 22 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 I was at twenty. I only ask for what you say you can 
 give, respect, and a certain amount of love." 
 
 " I do both respect and love you," the girl said; " but 
 it is not with the love you crave. My father is growing an 
 old man." 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " said Mr. Hamilton, " do not strive to 
 find excuses, your true, pure nature would not willingly 
 permit you to invent." As he was speaking, over neck 
 and face rushed the warm blood, the heart gave one great 
 throb, and then appeared to stand still, and Sibyl, pale and 
 trembling, sank into a chair. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton, seriously alarmed, rushed forward. 
 " My child, nothing I have said or done " 
 
 Sibyl had recovered herself. She had heard what he 
 had not, a quick, bold step, one word uttered by a voice. 
 
 " It is nothing, only a momentary pain," she said with 
 her gentle smile. " With you, Mr. Hamilton, until this 
 hour, there has never been associated any thing but kind- 
 ness and affection. But do not deceive yourself," for he 
 had started forward as if to interrupt her. " I can never 
 be your wife." 
 
 He turned and walked slowly towards the window, and 
 stood there for some minutes looking at the great elms 
 which shadowed the street. He felt as if their shadows 
 were cast upon his own heart. 
 
 Sibyl sat still at the far end of the room. Her body 
 quivering in every fibre, her fingers nervously twining 
 themselves together. What had happened ? what had 
 brought him home so unexpectedly ? She always thought 
 of it as his home. If he should come in and find them 
 together, what would he think ? Should her companion's
 
 YES, OR NO. 23 
 
 composure betray nothing, she knew her own face, alter- 
 nately ghastly pale and then burning red, would only too 
 truly tell the tale. Would he care ? How little she knew 
 man's nature ! This love of Edward's might go on for 
 years, but let another offer to take for himself this neg- 
 lected pearl, oh ! how he would prize it. 
 
 This silence might have lasted some minutes, neither 
 was aware of the lapse of time, when Mr. Hamilton turned, 
 and in a voice, the composed sadness of which was touch- 
 ing, asjced, 
 
 " Is there no hope ? " 
 
 " None," said Sibyl gently, but firmly. 
 
 " I do not wish to pain you," he said, " but may I ask 
 one question?" "Is there," he stopped, the girl flushed to 
 grow pale immediately, " I have no right to ask it, I know." 
 
 She broke in impetuously. 
 
 " You have every right to ask any question which true 
 friendship or kindness may dictate. I will not pretend to 
 ignore your meaning. Mr. Hamilton, I love another. Be 
 generous, be my friend, my true friend, you can never be 
 any thing more," and she extended her hand as she spoke. 
 
 There was a great big nobleness of heart in the man, 
 which in a peasant would have won our respect. As it 
 was here, joined to manners as courtly as was the fashion 
 of the day, Sibyl would have been more than human, had 
 not the knowledge of what she had cast away flashed for 
 one second across her mind. 
 
 He took her extended hand in both of his. 
 
 " Let the conversation of this morning pass from your 
 memory, and let me be only the familiar friend of a girl 
 young enough to be my daughter."
 
 24 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 Sibyl laid her other hand on his. 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Hamilton, you are so noble, so kind, you 
 will" 
 
 He interrupted her, " May God bless you ! There is 
 not on this earth the thing Arthur Hamilton can do, to 
 make either you or the man you love happy, which shall 
 willingly be left undone." 
 
 He kissed the hand he still held and she was alone. 
 She turned towards the window, and stood looking dream- 
 ily, sadly into the green shade. Hers was a loving nature. 
 She delighted in giving pleasure, and drank in great 
 draughts to herself in the happiness of others. Now, for 
 almost the first time in her still short life, she had made 
 her old, her best friend suffer. She knew the calm con- 
 centrated nature of the man she had refused. There was 
 no acting, no child's play in the deep voice, in the slight 
 quiver of the lips. The wound she had inflicted was life- 
 long. As she stood thus, half dreaming, half reproaching 
 herself for what was after all not her fault, two hands were 
 placed over her eyes, and she was dragged gently into the 
 middle of the room. A merry laugh rang in her ears. 
 
 It needed not the " Sibyl, Sibyl ! I've caught you," 
 to bring back the happy days of yore. 
 
 She turned, only to be kissed warmly on each cheek. 
 
 " How well you look, prettier than ever, I declare. I 
 need only go away and you grow younger and prettier each 
 day." 
 
 " Dear Edward, how glad I am to see you. I heard 
 your step in the hall." 
 
 " You heard me, and you never came out to welcome 
 me, Oh! Sibyl."
 
 YES, OR NO. 25 
 
 " How could I, dear, Mr. Hamilton was here with 
 me." 
 
 " Well, what if he were ? It is not the first time he 
 has spent a morning in the house. Nor have you always 
 been so particular. What blushing ! Why, Sibyl, was the 
 old man making love ? " 
 
 "What nonsense you talk," said the conscious girl. 
 " How are you ? What brought you home ? I have a 
 hundred questions to ask." 
 
 " So have I," answered Edward, " and one which 
 claims the pre-eminence. What was Mr. Hamilton talk- 
 ing to you about ?" His face grew stern, and his voice 
 altered in its expression. Sibyl knew not why, but a slight 
 feeling of awe passed over her. He was her master. 
 
 She tried to laugh it off, her cheeks all crimson, and 
 in her sweet playful way she covered his mouth with her 
 little hand. No woman, no true woman, ever tells of her 
 lovers. She buries them in the deep of her heart. 
 
 " No," he said, kissing the hand until she took it 
 away. 
 
 "That won't do. I will know. What did he say? 
 What ! no answer. Did he ask you to be his wife ? Sibyl 
 tell me, is it not so ? " 
 
 " No, no," said the blushing girl, turning away, " you 
 are mistaken." 
 
 He caught her, perhaps not altogether reluctant, and 
 placing both arms round her waist, he looked her straight 
 in the face. 
 
 " You asked me what brought me home. Shall I tell 
 you ? Do not struggle ; if I stop now, I shall be dumb for- 
 ever. I passed one night in New York such a night.
 
 26 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 You came before me in my dreams. I saw you ; you 
 beckoned to me, and then a voice whispered in my ear 
 I hear it even now, ' Stay away, and she is lost to you for- 
 ever ! ' Shall I go on ? " 
 
 Sibyl had ceased to struggle ; indeed the slight effort 
 she made to escape from his grasp hardly deserved the 
 name of struggling. Her eyes were cast upon the ground, 
 her cheeks burned like fire. Her silence gave consent. 
 He continued, 
 
 " Have I come too late ? Has the love which has 
 grown from childhood gone forever? Must I hope no 
 longer, Sibyl, that you will be mine ? " 
 
 No answer came. The thought that he had lost her 
 made him tremble. His words choked him. He never 
 knew until this moment how dearly, how madly he loved 
 her. 
 
 " Answer me ; for God's sake, answer me ! " 
 
 "What do you want me to say? " said Sibyl. 
 
 " Tell me that you love me." 
 
 " You know I do." 
 
 The answer came so tremulously, it hardly broke the 
 stillness of the room. 
 
 " Then say so ; say so at once. Will you be my 
 wife ? " 
 
 The soft eyes looked up into his, guileless and true. 
 The slight form drew a trifle closer, and the sweet voice, 
 this time clear as a marriage bell, 
 
 " I will." 
 
 " At this moment the half-closed door was pushed open, 
 and the old Doctor, his spectacles on his nose, came in. 
 He had a book in his hand, and was so absorbed, that he
 
 YES, OR NO. 27 
 
 was guided more by instinct than by his senses. He had 
 heard the faint sound of voices, and had followed it, 
 talking as he came, and he had reached the middle of the 
 room before he took in the scene. 
 
 " Dear boy, I intended calling your attention to a 
 plagiarism in Juvenal's fifth Satire, taken from one of 
 ' Ovid's Metamorphoses,' or I am wrong in my construc- 
 tion." 
 
 He had gotten so far in his sentence when he stopped, 
 pushed his spectacles up on his forehead, and looked first 
 at one then at the other. 
 
 Sibyl hid her face on Edward's shoulder, who, painfully 
 embarrassed, still kept his arm around her waist. The old 
 man's eyes twinkled, his face beamed with pleasure. 
 
 " I felt I must be right," he said. The metamorphose 
 has been construed in accordance with my wishes." 
 
 He turned, and as he went out he quietly closed the 
 door.
 
 CHAPTER III. 
 
 FAST DAY. 
 
 " To this our western wilderness 
 A glorious boon they bring, 
 A church without a bishop, 
 A state without a king." 
 
 |N no country of the Protestant world has the 
 " Church on earth " exercised such unbounded 
 influence as in Connecticut during her early 
 colonial days. Up to a very late period, the 
 rights of voting, and all the essential privileges of freemen 
 belonged only to church members. And as the right of 
 admission to church membership lay absolutely in the 
 hands of the ministers, this body of men virtually controlled 
 the politics of the State. 
 
 At the period during which the events narrated in this 
 story occurred, many changes had taken place. Radical- 
 ism, which had broken down many of the existing barriers 
 in Europe, had not been without its effect even in Connec- 
 ticut. Yet the older and more substantial citizens clung 
 tenaciously to the church, as in a great measure the ex- 
 ponent of political as well as religious truths. 
 
 Dr. Spencer's name was a tower of strength. His 
 wonderful learning, his eloquence, and, above all, the 
 sweetness and gentleness of his nature, made the side
 
 FAST DAY. 29 
 
 which he espoused almost certain of success. He was 
 known to be an ardent Federalist ; in accord politically 
 with the Governor and Council in the stand which they had 
 taken against what they considered the usurpations of the 
 general government. 
 
 Would he, on this day, which the State government had 
 set apart for imploring Divine aid and assistance, throw 
 his influence in support of those who undoubtedly were 
 justly resisting a technical invasion of their rights, or 
 would he pour the oil of peace on the troubled waters of 
 political strife. 
 
 These were questions so pregnant, that it was not to be. 
 
 wondered at if the little church of D should be the 
 
 point to which the leaders on both sides turned with anx- 
 ious interest. 
 
 It was one of those beautiful June mornings so peculiar 
 to America. The hazy light hung softly over the sloping 
 meadows, and the long shadows lay unbroken on the hill- 
 sides. From far and near crowds came pouring in on 
 horseback, in carts and wagons of every description 
 sober, orderly, determined men. Had but a modern 
 " Cromwell " appeared, here was the material out of which 
 the religious, enthusiastic " Ironsides " could be formed. 
 
 Edward Mason walked through the principal street 
 some little time before the hour of service. His absence 
 from his native State had not been sufficiently prolonged 
 to weaken the regards of the younger members of the 
 community, among whom he had always been a recognized 
 leader. Quite a group of these had gathered around him, 
 anxious to learn what his feelings were on the absorbing 
 questions of the day, when his arm was touched, and turn- 
 ing he saw Mr. Hamilton.
 
 30 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 The elder man drew him from the crowd, and after an 
 affectionate greeting, said 
 
 " I was a boy of about fifteen, Edward, when in this 
 very square I heard the news of ' Lexington.' It was fol- 
 lowed by seven years of bloody war. On my honor, I do 
 not think this present occasion less momentous." 
 
 " Why, Mr. Hamilton, how you astonish me ; we were 
 then colonies. We are now one nation. We were then 
 fighting for our liberties : now we are called upon to fight 
 a foreign foe." 
 
 " Not for the wealth of ' Ind,' Edward, would I openly 
 avow that I consider our liberties more in danger at this 
 moment than they were then. Yes " he continued, reply- 
 ing to the astonished look on the young man's face "yes, 
 civil war, division, anarchy hang trembling in the balance. 
 Every civil right dear to the New Englander has been in- 
 vaded. The people are in a state of absolute madness." 
 
 "Are you not unconsciously magnifying the danger, 
 Mr. Hamilton ? " 
 
 " My dear boy, look around you. Where do these men 
 spring from ! Every man you see is an Anglo-Saxon 
 descendants of the very men who sent Charles I. to the 
 scaffold of the men who defied the far greater power of 
 the Church of Rome. To them civil liberty is identified 
 with the ' Bill of Rights ' and the ' Habeas Corpus.' Are not 
 our rulers in Washington at this very moment proposing to 
 take from them privileges dearer by far than their heart's 
 blood?" 
 
 " Then I am to understand, Mr. Hamilton, that you 
 sympathize with the action of the Executive, both in Mas- 
 sachusetts and Connecticut, in resisting the claims of the 
 general government ? "
 
 FAST DAY. 31 
 
 " Sympathize with them, Edward, yes ; support them, 
 no." 
 
 " What do you mean ? I do not understand you you 
 speak in enigmas." 
 
 " From my first entry into public life I taught myself 
 to look upon this land as an undivided country its in- 
 habitants as one homogeneous whole. And if (which God 
 forbid !) I were this day obliged to choose between the sur- 
 render of our liberties and the division of our country, I 
 should choose the former." 
 
 "Do you attach much importance to what will take 
 place to-day ? Will the sermons or addresses carry weight 
 in men's minds ? " 
 
 " Weight ? Young man, you do not know our people. 
 To the mass of the farming class throughout New Eng- 
 land, the words of James Spencer, and men like him, are 
 held in as much reverence as by the Israel of old was the 
 voice of Moses speaking from Horeb. If, as I fondly 
 hope and believe, they are to be words of peace and good 
 will, we may be saved. But should they preach resistance, 
 not all the statecraft in the world can save us from a dis- 
 solution of the ' Union,' and a probable alliance with the 
 British government." 
 
 " One more question before you enter the church," for 
 Mr. Hamilton had turned as if to leave him. " How do 
 the Federal leaders feel in this crisis ? " 
 
 " Generally as I do. Edward Mason, that starry flag 
 shall not go down. Our forefathers made it, and we will 
 sustain it. If you wish to judge for yourself, watch well 
 the countenances of those assembled here to-day. As our 
 worthy church-elders would express it, ' Watch as well as 
 pray.' "
 
 32 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 While talking they, had been walking slowly towards 
 the church, when Mr. Hamilton stopped, and taking his 
 young companion's hand kindly in his own, he said : 
 
 " I knew and respected your father, my young friend, 
 as did all men. The position he held in this community 
 has fallen as a birthright upon you. It requires no great 
 
 acuteness to see that the youth of D look upon you as 
 
 their leader. What your intentions are, I know not. But 
 of this I am sure, knowing the blood from which you 
 spring ' A gentleman never changes his politics or his 
 religion.' Before you take any overt step consult me." 
 
 Edward was a little surprised at the solemnity of the 
 tone, and as he paused a moment, Mr. Hamilton came 
 back to him, 
 
 " Edward, a merchant often puts the profits of a life of 
 toil on the hazard of a single venture. A mere man of 
 the world, more often than that world supposes, does the 
 same with the greater riches of the heart. Even should 
 utter bankruptcy follow, and he be a true man, he honors 
 his successful rival." A sad smile passed over his face as 
 he continued " You have won a prize. In season and 
 out of season, and at all times, count upon the friendship 
 of Arthur Hamilton." 
 
 Edward made his way through the crowded entrance 
 to the seats reserved for Dr. Spencer's family, accompa- 
 nied by his friend. He found Mrs. Spencer already there 
 with the house-servants, each one of whom felt himself on 
 an equality with his employers in the House of God. 
 
 The pew was on the side of the church and faced the 
 congregation, so that Edward, without transgressing the 
 Puritan rules of conduct, was enabled to study the faces
 
 FAST DAY. 33 
 
 of the assemblage, and satisfy himself of the accuracy of 
 Mr. Hamilton's statements. It required but a rapid glance 
 to verify the truth of his friend's remarks. Among the 
 younger members some hesitation might be observed, and 
 as several avowed supporters of the national government 
 were numbered among Dr. Spencer's flock, there seemed 
 an inclination on the part of these young men to rally 
 round them as leaders. By far the larger portion, how- 
 ever, both old and young, showed in manner and bearing 
 that stern, self-reliant air which would have been looked 
 for in " Praise God Barebones' " parliament of old. A 
 few of the elders carried their stoical composure so far, 
 indeed, as resolutely to refrain from even glancing at the 
 new-comers. 
 
 Edward's engagement to the daughter of their pastor 
 had already been reported in the little community, and 
 had caused a certain amount of curiosity to see how they 
 would act under this trying ordeal. At this moment Dr. 
 Spencer, in the gown of an " M. A.," his thin gray hair 
 covered with a skull cap, his long bands of snowy white 
 being the only relief to the otherwise perfect blackness of 
 his garb, entered, and mounted the winding stairs which 
 led to the pulpit. He stood for a moment and gazed on 
 the congregation, who sat motionless, then drew his watch 
 from his fob, and after holding it to his ear, laid it on the 
 cushion before him, and, without uttering a word, extended 
 his hands in the attitude of supplication. The utter ab- 
 sence of form, the barrenness, the coldness of the Puritan 
 mode of worship, never struck Edward so forcibly as on 
 that morning. As he ran his eye over the upturned faces, 
 a shudder passed through him. Mr. Hamilton was right.
 
 34 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 and on the action of a few able, pure, but perhaps bigoted 
 men, might hang the destiny of his country. 
 
 Whatever may have been his thoughts, Edward's atten- 
 tion was soon riveted by the prayer. Accustomed to Dr. 
 Spencer's matchless eloquence, he had never thought until 
 that moment that human language was capable of giving 
 utterance to such pure, loving, humble supplication and 
 prayer. The effect was wonderful ; many a tear glistened 
 in eyes unused to weep, and found its way down cheeks 
 hardened by the winds which " sweep o'er hills of snow." 
 
 Outside of the city of Boston there could not have been 
 found, at that time, an instrument of music in any Congre- 
 gational church in New England. Yet such was the fer- 
 vor of the assemblage that its absence was hardly felt. 
 The Psalm chosen was the old metrical version of the 
 forty-eighth " God is our refuge and strength, a very 
 present help in time of trouble." 
 
 So strong was the strain on Edward's nerves, that it 
 was a relief to him when the last note died away, and the 
 sermon commenced. Dr. Spencer availed himself of the 
 occasion of its being a " fast day " to make his discourse 
 strictly political. No matter how momentous the occasion, 
 it is doubtful if he could have allowed himself to discuss 
 secular affairs on the Sabbath. After a most masterly 
 sketch of the grand principles which each nation had suc- 
 cessively been called upon to found in the general polity 
 of the world, he took up the rise and political progress of 
 this infant state. Under the providence of God, freedom, 
 he claimed, was its mission freedom built upon the con- 
 servative principles of law. The action of the party in 
 power he treated as one of those sudden storms which dis-
 
 FAST DAY. 35 
 
 turb the political atmosphere without in any way altering 
 the regular order of the seasons. 
 
 Although he spoke for almost two hours, not for one 
 moment did the attention of his auditors flag. The effect 
 could at once be seen and felt, as by some electrical influ- 
 ence. A few of the older men, and one stern man in par- 
 ticular, who filled the post of senior deacon, frowned 
 darkly, and once even shook his head, at what he consid- 
 ered a melancholy backsliding in political faith. But it 
 was evident a change had been wrought, and a large ma- 
 jority of his congregation were prepared to follow the lead 
 of their pastor. 
 
 For several minutes after he had finished his discourse, 
 Dr. Spencer remained standing, his eyes upraised as if in 
 silent prayer. Then leaning over the pulpit, he said in 
 clear low tones, which vibrated on every ear, 
 
 " My friends, it is now thirty years since, when from 
 this very spot, my father bade the fathers of many whom I 
 now see before me, ' God speed,' when they went to fight 
 for liberty as against the tyranny of kings. It now be- 
 comes my duty to bid such of you ' God speed ' who are 
 called upon to battle on behalf of your country. In the 
 far-off spirit-land they now look down upon us, and they 
 ask in tones which must penetrate into every heart, ' Are 
 you willing to allow this land the land we gave you, the 
 land for which we fought and died to be divided and torn 
 asunder, to become the fragment of a whole, the sport and 
 derision of Christendom ? To see the bright star of free- 
 dom sink drenched in fratricidal blood ? ' Your friends, 
 your brethren, your sister States are in the field asking for 
 aid. Can you be deaf to the call ? Receive the blessing.
 
 36 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 May the Triune God bless, protect, and keep this, our 
 common country. May He make her free, happy, and 
 above all obedient to Him. May he confound and destroy 
 all her enemies, at home and abroad, and may the frosts 
 of the second death seize upon every heart which does not 
 say ' Amen ! ' ' 
 
 The silence was deathlike for an instant, and then 
 came a deep, unanimous " Amen." 
 
 As the congregation rose to disperse, Edward's arm 
 was seized by Mr. Hamilton, who muttered in his ear, 
 " We are saved. The effect of this man's overwhelming 
 influence will be felt in every nook and cranny of this 
 State. God bless James Spencer ! " 
 
 Edward caught a glimpse of Sibyl near the church- 
 porch, and, excusing himself, hurried towards her. It was 
 a trying ordeal, this acknowledgment before town's folk 
 and acquaintances, but it may be doubted if there is any 
 young girl who, at some period of her life, would not trem- 
 blingly have passed through it. 
 
 As Mr. Hamilton lingered with a sad smile on his face, 
 watching the lovers sauntering off down the shady lane, he 
 was joined by the old deacon to whom we have alluded. 
 
 " You liked it, I know you did, I saw it in your face. 
 Never deny it to me, Mr. Hamilton, I should hate to dis- 
 believe you." 
 
 " My dear sir, I have no hesitancy in declaring at once 
 that Dr. Spencer's principles are mine, that heart and hand, 
 I go with him to the good work." 
 
 " Ain't it a surrendering to the Evil one, a-bowing down 
 to the Scarlet woman. 'Tisn't often, Mr. Hamilton, that 
 you worship in the simple way of your fathers. You've
 
 FAST DAY. 37 
 
 j'ined the Episcopal communion, not that I'm saying you 
 can't be of the elect in so doing. It is not for a misera- 
 ble worm like me to make myself a 'judge in Israel.' But 
 it is so easy after you have invested one dollar, to put in 
 another to save it." 
 
 " My dear old friend," said Hamilton, not in the slight- 
 est degree discomposed by this sudden attack, " you 
 should know that my family for generations have been 
 members -of the ' Church of England.' My political faith 
 and yours are the same. Deacon. But I cannot, I will 
 not, I dare not bring civil war upon my country." 
 
 " You are in the right," said the other bitterly; " we're 
 the weakest, and must go to the wall. But there is no 
 harm in wishing that God will treat our democratic rulers, 
 even as Josiah treated the priests of Baal, when he slew 
 them at the brook Kedron in the wilderness. Let's j'ine 
 the folks, and see how they talk. Ah, me ! but it's hard 
 to preserve a Christian temper when one is so tempted."
 
 CHAPTER IV. 
 SEAMEN'S RIGHTS. 
 
 They love their land because it is their own 
 And scorn to give ought other reason why, 
 Would shake hands with a king upon his throne, 
 And think it kindness to his majesty." HALLECK. 
 
 MONO the groups into which the audience 
 divided on leaving the church, was one com- 
 posed of several men, whose manners marked 
 them as leaders in this little world. They 
 acted, they moved and spoke like men accustomed to be 
 looked up to and followed by their less fortunate neigh- 
 bors. Yet there was still a mixture of restraint and uncer- 
 tainty unusual with the ordinary self-assertion, of the select- 
 men of a New England village. Deacon Knapp was a good 
 specimen of the " well-to-do " Yankee. He was about sixty 
 years old, tall and thin, although his height was much less- 
 ened by an habitual stoop. His gray hair was drawn back 
 in a tight queue, giving prominence to his sharp-cut features. 
 His eyes, light blue and restless, were expressive of a cer- 
 tain cunning, but his countenance was redeemed from vul- 
 garity by the firm lines of his mouth and the intensity of 
 his look. His dress was a dark-blue body coat cut very 
 full, with side pockets and metal buttons. A waistcoat of 
 some bright checked stuff, gray cloth knee-breeches, blue 
 (38)
 
 SEAMEN S RIGHTS. 39 
 
 stockings and shoes with silver buckles, and a broad- 
 brimmed white hat. His address and bearing indicated a 
 man confident of his own power, and accustomed to have his 
 remarks listened to respectfully. He owned a large farm 
 some distance from the village, which had descended to 
 him from his grandfather. His family consisted of two 
 sons and two daughters. One of the boys had graduated 
 at Yale College and was now a young lawyer in his native 
 place. The second had just taken his degree as a " Doc- 
 tor of Medicine," and was absent from home. One of his 
 daughters had married and lived near her father, the other, 
 a fine, tall, handsome, red-cheeked, black-eyed girl kept 
 house for the old man, who had lost his wife many years 
 before. This young girl was the ardent admirer and warm 
 friend of Sibyl Spencer. 
 
 Deacon Knapp was evidently in a state of bewilderment 
 and doubt. " I kinder reckon the Parson skimmed off 
 most of the cream this morning from the pan, but some 
 how he didn't ladle the milk clear." 
 
 This preliminary speech was uttered loud enough to 
 be heard by the younger men, who lingered near the out- 
 skirts of the group. 
 
 " There is no use, Deacon," said the man more particu- 
 larly addressed, and who was always known as Major 
 Bailey, a leading politician on the Democratic side " there 
 is no use Deacon, even in Dr. Spencer a-trying to throw 
 cold water on this government. It has the confidence of 
 the people and they mean to invest their fortunes in it." 
 
 " It don't seem to strike me, Major," continued the 
 Deacon eyeing him with some severity, and speaking with 
 tartness, " as how you've got hold of the p'int of this ere
 
 4O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 argument. It's all very well speaking of investing when it's 
 your savings you're puttin' away ag'in a rainy day. You can 
 set them down salt them away like in ' Yazoo lands ' as 
 some of us done, afore we got to be lamed in such matters. 
 But when a man begins to talk of the principal of what has 
 got, he becomes as you say kinder keerful." There was a 
 chuckle of suppressed laughter the Major having been 
 a large speculator in Southern and Western land companies. 
 The Deacon saw his advantage " As I was a-saying, the 
 principal of our fortune rests, I reckon, on the strength and 
 durability of this government. I am an oldish man, but 
 I'll smell powder afore I see it broke up. We've had to 
 bear and forbear a good deal since the dimicrats came in, 
 but I'm much mistaken if the most on us here don't agree 
 in my way of thinking." 
 
 " Then why don't you, and the others who think like 
 you, send in the militia as the government wishes you to 
 do," retorted the other, his temper not improved by the 
 laugh that had been raised against him. 
 
 "Now that's the p'int I'm a-coming to," said the old 
 man, not a feature moving, not a tone in his voice altering. 
 " I believe the general government's got a right to make 
 war or peace to ask for our men, or our money, all 
 under the constitution. I don't like parting with money 
 more than any of you, but I'll pay my taxes cheerful, if I 
 think there's justice in them, grumbling if I don't but 
 I'll pay them. I'll send my boys too, that is, I'll tell them 
 what I think. But I'll not give up one p'int in what I 
 consider the constitution protects us in. To my mind the 
 Governor and Council are right. Our militia belongs to us. 
 They're poor enough two days' training in a year don't
 
 SEAMEN S RIGHTS. 4! 
 
 make a soldier, any more than one swallow makes a sum- 
 mer. But its all we've got ag'in any sudden incursion of 
 the enemy." 
 
 " Well," answered the other, " that's just what the 
 government wants. They want to put them in the forts at 
 New Haven and New London to prevent the coasts from 
 being insulted. You give away your whole case when you 
 admit that." 
 
 " No I don't," answered the Deacon stoutly. " I can 
 plough my furrow as straight as any man. If the govern- 
 ment had wanted them for that purpose do you think they'd 
 have left a man like you stay to hum. You got your com- 
 mission from the State. You can't tell how much better 
 the woman folk would have felt, if you had been sent down 
 to look arter the boys. You are a powerful handsome 
 man in your regimentals, Major Bailey." 
 
 "What good would I have done anyhow?" replied 
 Bailey. 
 
 " Not much," continued the imperturbable Deacon. 
 " There's few men set a safer value on an article than you 
 do, Major, when you give your mind to it. As I was a- 
 saying, that's not what was intended. They meant to mix 
 our boys in with the regulars, to dress them and break 
 them in and then ship them to Canada, to try and conquer 
 a province that's not worth more to this Union than the 
 piece of land I take to grow garden sass in. Them's my 
 views." 
 
 Mr. Hamilton had joined the group as the Deacon was 
 speaking, who now turned towards him and continued 
 
 " If the general government's got the right to declare 
 war, she's got the right to raise armies, if she can get any
 
 42 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 one to go in them, and in consequence the right of laying 
 taxes and making loans to pay for those armies. But she's 
 got to do them things under the constitution. I never 
 heard that the men who drafted that ere instrument in- 
 tended giving the power to draft men into the army or 
 navy only to carry on a foreign war." 
 
 "But, Deacon," broke in Bailey, "hasn't the govern- 
 ment a right to draft men to defend the coast, and the 
 northern frontier, and to repress insurrection ? " 
 
 "There's no insurrection, there's no invasion," an- 
 swered the Deacon, " there's no law in danger which the 
 special men of the town can't enforce and not even call on 
 the town constable to help. If the Yorkers were up in 
 arms ag'in the courts it might be a different matter. But 
 they ain't. Now this conquest of Canada is a thing which 
 in my judgment the people's got a fight to express their 
 opinion about. If they wish to take it, they've got a per- 
 fect right to jine the regular army and try. For my part, 
 I don't seem to hanker after it some how." 
 
 The more moderate of his hearers evidently agreed 
 with him. There were however among them several who 
 took a much more extreme ground. 
 
 Leaning against the fence was a tall, handsome young 
 fellow of about six-and-twenty. One whose sunburnt face, 
 strong, muscular form, and the indescribable air a seaman 
 always wears, proclaimed his profession. 
 
 " Don't you think, Deacon," he said, " we might carry 
 this argument a step further ? We are a sea-going, a trad- 
 ing, and a mercantile community, we Connecticut men, the 
 most of us I mean. We toil long and work hard, and we 
 sea-going men have had about six years of as bad times
 
 SEAMEN S RIGHTS. 43 
 
 as fall to the lot of most people what between British 
 orders in council, and French decrees, and our own em- 
 bargo and non-intercourse acts." 
 
 "That's the very reason," interrupted Bailey, "that 
 you seamen should join heart and hand in putting down 
 this upstart British nation. Let the great French Emperor 
 once make the ocean free." 
 
 " I think, Major," said the Deacon, " you are rather 
 sp'iling to talk, and yet, I guess I'll act as moderator of 
 this here meeting and we'll hear what Sammy's got to 
 say." 
 
 " As to the freedom of the seas, I think I can say 
 something about that," continued the seaman. " The 
 English don't interfere with the freedom of the seas ex- 
 cept so far as the law of nations justifies. I know what 
 I am talking about, sir," he said looking at Bailey who had 
 Jaughed rather contemptuously at this statement. " I did 
 not come in at the cabin windows. I shipped when I was 
 a boy of fifteen at New Haven, and have been through 
 all the grades, until I stood master on the quarter deck." 
 
 " I suppose you don't call impressing our native citizens 
 and shutting them up as slaves inside ' England's wooden 
 walls ' any thing, do you ? " asked Bailey with a sneer. 
 
 " Yes, I should," continued Griswold ; " but the fun of 
 the thing is, England has not done it, except in a few, a 
 very few instances, and then the men hadn't their papers." 
 
 " Now, Sammy, you ain't going a little too far are ye ? " 
 asked the Deacon. 
 
 " I assert it and I know it can be proved. It has been 
 stated in Congress, by the members from this State, and 
 never denied by the official mouth-piece of the government,
 
 44 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 that three quarters of all the seamen who man our mer- 
 chant vessels are foreign born." 
 
 "That may be so," said Bailey, "but they are all natu- 
 ralized citizens, and therefore entitled to our protection." 
 
 *' What the law of nations may be on this subject," con 
 tinued Griswold, " Mr. Hamilton can tell you far better 
 than I can. But this I know, there's not a custom house 
 in America in which protections ain't issued for the ask- 
 ing. And if the collector stands out, which he rarely does, 
 you can buy a witness for two dollars, at any sailor's 
 boarding house,to swear he has known you from your birth." 
 
 " Well, but," said Bailey, a little staggered by the direct- 
 ness of the sailor's statements, " if the sea, as the Emperor 
 desires, was made free, the flag covering the cargo, all this 
 trouble would be done away with. You're stopped there, 
 I guess." 
 
 " No, sir, I am not," replied Griswold. " I can show in 
 my own case what this freedom of the seas, the French 
 talk about, amounts to, if it would interest you." 
 
 " Of course it will interest us," said Mr. Hamilton ; 
 " we are all more or less concerned in what is now the 
 great topic of the day." 
 
 " Well, then, last year I was master of as fine a brig as 
 sailed out of a northern port." 
 
 The seaman controlled himself wonderfully, but he was 
 evidently laboring under great excitement. 
 
 " I loaded with tobacco at Baltimore for Riga, then an 
 open port. We had a fine run over, and when we got in 
 the chops of the channel, we were overhauled by a British 
 frigate ; she hailed us, and we backed our top-sail, and 
 she sent a boat aboard with a lieutenant."
 
 SEAMEN S RIGHTS. 45 
 
 " How did they behave," asked Mr. Hamilton, " were 
 they as insolent and overbearing as they are always repre- 
 sented ?" 
 
 " Not in the least so," answered the seaman. " He 
 was a little haughty all officers in uniform are. He looked 
 over the ship's papers, had the men mustered and com- 
 pared my reckoning. I asked him down in the cabin to 
 have a glass of grog, which he accepted. There was a lady 
 passenger on board with three children, one a girl of about 
 fifteen, who was very sick. The officer left us without a 
 word more. The crew were all Americans, and had their 
 papers in order. I had just filled away, when the frigate 
 fired a gun, and the officer came back." 
 
 "Ah, ha ! " said Bailey, exultantly, " I knew you wouldn't 
 get off so cheap. What did they do then ? Tell us all, 
 don't keep any thing back." 
 
 "Don't worry," said Griswold, "you shall hear all. 
 The officer brought a file of English papers for me, and 
 a dozen of 'porter' for the young lady, as a present from 
 the ward-room officers. I had told him we had nothing 
 but rum aboard and I was afraid she'd die." 
 
 " It somehow strikes me," said the Deacon, " although 
 I don't sit up for a democratic politician, them Britishers 
 ought to be put down ; making a Yankee lose an hour, 
 and he sharp for a market." 
 
 " That's not the point. What right had that frigate to 
 stop an American vessel on the high seas," said Bailey, 
 flushing a deep red. 
 
 " I never heard before," said Mr. Hamilton, " the right 
 of search denied by any civilian in time of war." 
 
 " We were close in with the French coast," continued
 
 46 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 Griswold, " and had just set the dog watch, when I made 
 out a large lugger through the haze. The wind had died 
 away and it was almost calm, and she ran us slap on 
 board. In five minutes our decks were covered with men; 
 five minutes did I say by George ! it was not three, 
 before they were in every hole and cranny of the brig. In 
 the forecastle, among the men's things, in the steward's 
 pantry. One little black-faced monkey, with his hair done 
 in corkscrew curls, and gold rings in his ears, began kiss- 
 ing and pulling the lady about. She screamed with fright. 
 I just took him under the ear with my left hand. They 
 had some trouble in bringing him to. I got a wipe from 
 the captain's cutlass I shall carry the mark to my 
 grave." 
 
 He bared his arm as he spoke. It was seamed across 
 with a deep, ugly scar. 
 
 " I can use it though," he said with a laugh, and the 
 muscles rose like manilla cordage. 
 
 There was not a man who doubted the fact that the 
 Frenchman had remained quiet some time. 
 
 " Well, Griswold," said Mr. Hamilton, " what became 
 of you after the Frenchmen came on board ? " 
 
 "They took us into St. Malo. I showed them my 
 papers. I was a neutral, sailing for a neutral port. I had 
 on board a cargo, declared by their own courts, not to be 
 ' contraband of war.' I might just as well have talked to 
 a nest of pirates. And they are pirates. They seized the 
 ship, and on what pretext do you think ? That I had 
 ' denationalized ' myself, as they call it, by having spoken 
 a British frigate in the open sea." 
 
 " There you see," said Bailey, " you ought to have re-
 
 SEAMEN S RIGHTS. 47 
 
 sisted, you ought never to have allowed the foot of an 
 Englishman to tread your decks." 
 
 "Resisted fiddlesticks," answered the seaman, "I 
 could not have resisted if I would. There was not so 
 much as a rusty musket on board, and I lying under the 
 quarter of a thirty-two gun frigate." 
 
 "When did this happen what month was it? " asked 
 Mr. Hamilton, " was it before the repeal to the ' Berlin 
 and Milan decrees.' " 
 
 " It was the first part of last December. Our govern- 
 ment had published to the world that there were no more 
 French restrictions on commerce. You, sir, know better 
 than I, if those facts were not officially stated." 
 
 " I do, indeed," said Mr. Hamilton, in answer to this 
 inquiry. " The very statement is the essence of our 
 charges against England." 
 
 " Didn't you do nothing at all," sneered Bailey. "You 
 give it up rather easily, ship and cargo, didn't you ? But 
 perhaps your own venture wasn't a large one." 
 
 The young sailor had been leaning against the fence in 
 a careless, graceful attitude. He turned his head and 
 looked at the speaker. 
 
 After fidgeting a moment Bailey continued 
 
 " Neighbors, as this is a fast day, and one of prayer, 
 may be the Lord wouldn't take it kindly, if we stand here* 
 all day talking." 
 
 " It strikes me, Major," said the Deacon, " the women 
 folks must be powerful lonely at home without you. It's bad 
 for the narves, in seasons of prayer, to let them wrastle 
 with the enemy, and no one near to keep their courage 
 up. I think you are about right in going to hum, I do."
 
 48 SIBYL SPENCER, 
 
 There was no dissenting voice, the Major left. 
 
 " As we're sociable, and all together like, Captain, sup- 
 pose we go on with that story of yours." 
 
 " There's little more to tell ; I hung round St. Malo 
 until the Prize Court decided the confiscation, and then I 
 got permission to go to Paris. 
 
 " Did you obtain assistance from our minister at the 
 French court, Griswold ! " said Mr. Hamilton, " and was 
 the trial an open one, and had you counsel ? " 
 
 "We had no minister there at the time, only a 'charge' 
 d'affaires,' not that it was any loss to either the owners or 
 myself. Everybody told me that our late minister, General 
 Armstrong, paid little attention to the sufferings of either 
 seamen or travellers. I had a counsel, a M. Le Grange. I 
 think him the only honest, fearless man in France. At 
 first the court released the vessel, but afterwards she was 
 condemned by a special order of the Emperor." 
 
 " You say suffering, Griswold. Did you, personally, 
 have any cause of complaint ? " 
 
 " I was only obliged to pawn every thing, down to my 
 last jacket. I had nowhere to sleep, and was dogged and 
 followed everywhere by spies and police. They started 
 once to take me to the ' Temple.' That is all, sir." 
 
 " I know'd you'd come of good old Puritan stock, 
 Sammy," said the Deacon, " and would hold, like your old 
 daddy, that the place to worship God was in the ' temple 
 not built by hands,' rather than in any vain imagining of 
 man's works. But didn't you carry the p'int a little far, to 
 call it ' suffering,' only to go in it ? I ask this inquiring 
 like." 
 
 Mr. Hamilton had to turn his head to hide a smile at
 
 SEAMEN S RIGHTS. 49 
 
 the old man's simplicity. Griswold broke into a hearty 
 laugh. 
 
 "The Temple I mean, Deacon, was the worst prison in 
 France." 
 
 " Do tell now," said the Deacon ; " who but a French- 
 man would call a prison a temple. Keep on talking, 
 Sammy, it's better than a sermon. Now we hain't got any 
 dimmicrats, at least none to speak on, to p'ison the air 
 keep right on." 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton," said the sailor, " I saw sights in those 
 prison pens in France which would have made your blood 
 run cold. Hundreds, nay thousands of our seamen, some 
 of them from the towns and villages of this our native State, 
 men who have been missing for years, and whom we 
 thought shut up in England's frigates farmed out at so 
 much a head to the brutal peasantry, and worked under 
 the lash, harder than we work our oxen. Glad, I say, to 
 get a little sour bread and wine, to keep body and soul to- 
 gether. Men shut up for no crime. Taken from vessels ; 
 condemned on pretexts ten times more trifling even than 
 mine was." 
 
 "I'd like to ask," interrupted the Deacon, "if Mr. 
 Hamilton, who has been a servant of the people for some 
 years, knows if these facts have ever been brought to the 
 knowledge of our government ? " 
 
 " Not to my personal knowledge, Deacon. You re- 
 member I have never been an office-holder under either 
 Mr. Madison or his predecessor. I have, however, every 
 reason to believe that f acts, , such as Captain Griswold has 
 stated, have often been laid before the government, and 
 are, and were, thoroughly well known to the high state of- 
 ficials." 
 
 4
 
 5O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 There was a pause, broken by the Deacon, who rever- 
 ently took off his hat. 
 
 " The God of our fathers, the same great Guid and 
 Ruler of the Universe, will no doubt find a way of escape 
 for his children, if they do but serve him, and do their 
 duty. I agree, for one, with Parson Spencer ; and if our 
 country needs us, as far as a man who's getting along in 
 years can help, he will. She's our country after all, even 
 if the dimmicrats be in power. Them's my sentiments." 
 
 The solemn air and manner of the man touched Mr. 
 Hamilton, who turned as the group broke up, and walked 
 towards his own house. Familiar as he was with all the 
 varied peculiarities of his countrymen, he felt that the sal- 
 vation of his native land depended upon this calm, deep, 
 religious feeling, which could in all events be relied upon 
 in the bulk of the New England yeomen.
 
 CHAPTER V. 
 
 SALLY'S CHOICE. 
 
 " And when you dream of woman and her love, 
 Her truth, her tenderness, her gentle power, 
 Her maiden-listening in the moonlight grove ; 
 The mother smiling in her infant's bower ; 
 Forms, features, worshipped while we breathe or move 
 Be by some spirit of your dreaming hour, 
 Borne, like Loretto's chapel, through the air, 
 To the green land I sing, then wake, you'll find them there.' 
 
 HALLECK. 
 
 F you isn't tired, Sammy," said the Deacon, as 
 the group dispersed, " perhaps you might like 
 to stretch your legs a little. I've got some 
 questions I should like to put you." 
 The change which came over the young man when thus 
 addressed, did not escape the quick-sighted farmer, who 
 eyed him keenly. They had walked some distance down 
 -the road before the silence was broken. 
 
 " Was your own venture in the brig a large one, Sammy? " 
 said the Deacon. 
 
 " All I had in the world," replied the seaman. 
 "What?" said the other, stopping in his walk, and 
 gazing at the sailor with open-eyed wonder, "What, all ? 
 what, the old farm, and the bank stock, and all your daddy 
 left you ? " 
 
 The other only nodded.
 
 52 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 There was a long silence. 
 
 " Sammy," said the Deacon, " how long have you been 
 back in the country I mean ? " 
 
 "About three weeks. Only since last night in this 
 town." 
 
 " You've been back three weeks in America, and not 
 been to see your friends ! " 
 
 " Look here, Deacon," said the other, " you might as 
 well hear the story at once. At least if you wish to." 
 
 " In course I do," said the elder man ; "go on." 
 
 " Sister and I divided what father left, two years ago. 
 She took the old farm and the stock on it, and I turned the 
 rest into money, and bought a quarter interest in the 
 ' Alert.' You know I was away about two years the voy- 
 age before this last one. When we put into Baltimore, you 
 may remember, I just ran up here to see sister, and and 
 the folks." 
 
 The young man reddened as he spoke. 
 
 " I see'd ye," dryly muttered the old man. 
 
 " Well," continued the. seaman, growing more and more 
 embarrassed, " I had saved, what with my pay and my own 
 ventures, and my quarter of the profits, about ten thousand 
 dollars. So I bought my share of the tobacco, and I had 
 hoped to have enough by this time to have spoken to you. 
 But," he added bitterly, " what has a poor sailor man to 
 hope for in these times, when he has nothing but his two 
 hands to help himself with." 
 
 " That's gospel truth any way," muttered the Deacon ; 
 "but," he said aloud, "it ain't no reason why you shouldn't 
 have been to see your friends neighbor-like, Captain 
 Griswold."
 
 SALLYS CHOICE. 53 
 
 " I know it, I know it," said the Captain. " I hadn't 
 the courage. It was only the day before I left to take com- 
 mand, that last voyage, I asked your daughter, if I came 
 back this time with enough to buy a farm, and make things 
 snug and ship-shape, she'd have me." 
 
 " And what did she say ? " asked the Deacon sharply. 
 
 " She only laughed. Not a word, good or bad, could I 
 get out of her." 
 
 " She's an uncommon sensible girl, is my darter," again 
 muttered the old man. 
 
 " Yes," said the seaman, disregarding the Deacon's 
 speech, " I went away half mad, and this place would not 
 have seen me again in years, had it not been that I got a 
 letter the day before I sailed. There was not one word of 
 writing in it, it only held this ; but some how I felt better." 
 
 He took from his pocket a worn-out envelope, and 
 showed a dark curl of hair, tied with a blue ribbon. 
 
 " I kept that, if I did not keep either the ship or the 
 cargo." 
 
 The Deacon stood still on the road. He looked his 
 companion from head to foot. 
 
 " Sammy, when I was a boy, I played with your daddy, 
 down by the old school-house yonder. We went out to- 
 gether in '76 and we sat together in the old meeting- 
 house until he died. I'd take it uncommon kind if you'd 
 just drop in and have a chat with the old man to-night, 
 if you've nothing better to do. There'll be nobody there 
 to speak on, but I'd take it kind, I would." 
 
 He left the sailor abruptly, and walked rapidly down 
 the road. Deacon Knapp's house stood close on the 
 road. The first story was built of rough stone, and the
 
 54 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 upper story was of wood, shingled on the outside. In front 
 was a porch covered with honeysuckle and briar roses. 
 You could still see the marks of loop-holes in the walls. 
 Many and many a time had the whoop of the savaga 
 Pequot awakened in that building "the sleep of the 
 cradle." There was the same absence of taste in all the 
 surroundings, always noticeable in New England farm- 
 houses. The barns were large, and in good order. Com- 
 parative wealth was there, but it was shown in the simpli- 
 city of sixty years ago. The Deacon entered at once into 
 the kitchen, evidently the common sitting-room of the 
 family. Every thing was beautifully clean and neat. In 
 one corner ticked an old-fashioned clock, its polished wood 
 and silver dial marking the antiquity of its make. A few 
 books hung in a book-shelf against the wall, also two or 
 three cheap prints of scenes in the Revolutionary War, the 
 attack on Quebec and the fall of Montgomery, a head 
 of Washington, around which were still the remains of a 
 wreath. Over the old-fashioned chimney-place hung a 
 musket and one or two long clay pipes, also several curiosi- 
 ties of Indian warfare and the chase. A strapping country 
 girl, the hired help, was sweeping the remains of the " fast- 
 day " meal off the polished oak table, and to whose ques- 
 tion " if he wanted any thing to eat," the old man replied 
 by shaking his head. The Deacon took down one of the 
 pipes and filled it with tobacco from a box on the shelf, 
 then seated himself by the open window. His low mutter- 
 ing at length found vent in words. 
 
 " The boy is as like Israel as two peas. He's got the 
 same temper and the same principles. Sally" this last 
 word he uttered aloud.
 
 SALLY S CHOICE. 55 
 
 "Where's Sally?" he asked the girl who came in. 
 
 " I see'd her going across the meadow towards the 
 brook as you came in," answered the servant. " Was there 
 much of a crowd at meeting to-day, and how did the folks 
 take Dr. Spencer's sermon ? " 
 
 The old man made no answer, but smoked on in 
 silence. The girl only wanted a listener, so she went on 
 with her remarks. 
 
 " I thought I see'd Sam Griswold go by the house this 
 morning. Has he come back again ? Perhaps he didn't 
 get the mitten after all who knows ? " 
 
 " Nobody, if you don't," said the old man. " You 
 generally find out every thing about your neighbors' doings 
 as soon as anybody." 
 
 "What's the use of eyes, if they isn't for seeing," said 
 the girl. " Howsomever, here's Sally, and you kin ask 
 her." With this last fling the girl flounced out of the 
 kitchen and slammed the door. 
 
 She who now stood in the door-way was a rare specimen 
 of New England beauty. Tall and slight, but beautifully 
 rounded in figure, with bright black eyes, red cheeks, and 
 long, glossy, dark brown hair. Her mouth was perhaps a 
 trifle large, but her red lips and white teeth took away 
 from the defect, if defect it was. She was the possessor 
 of charms sufficient to bewilder a more accomplished man 
 of the world than a free-spoken, open-hearted sailor. The 
 old Deacon evidently thought so, for he eyed her long 
 and keenly. There was a slight degree of constraint in 
 the girl's manner, as she sat down near the open door 
 playing with a few wild flowers she had gathered during 
 her walk.
 
 56 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " What kept you so long at meeting ? " she asked ; 
 " will you have any thing to eat, or are you going to fast ? I 
 wish you would deny yourself that horrid tobacco, there 
 would be some reason in that. Come out on the porch, 
 this room is hot and uncomfortable." 
 
 " I will," said her father ; " I want to talk with you, 
 Sally." 
 
 " Well, you have not answered my question what 
 kept you so long at meeting ? " 
 
 " Oh ! Mr. Hamilton and me, and some of the others 
 got arguing about the war. Then we had Bailey." 
 
 " Disagreeable man," broke in the girl ; ' f I hope you 
 gave him a piece of your mind." 
 
 "Well, he didn't seem to take much stock in what was 
 said, nor in the story Sammy Griswold told neither." 
 
 " Who ? " said his daughter growing deadly pale, and 
 then flushing up, over neck and face. 
 
 " Why Sammy he's come to hum again, and there 
 ain't much left of him neither. I mean in the way of 
 property." 
 
 " Why, what's happened to him ? " asked the girl 
 coldly. 
 
 " Only his ship and cargo was taken by the French, and 
 he hasn't a rapp to bless himself with," replied her father. 
 
 " How long has he been home, here in America I 
 mean ? " asked the girl. 
 
 " Something like four weeks maybe," said her father. 
 
 " I knew he had been back some little time." 
 
 " How did you hear that, and why didn't you tell me ? " 
 asked her father. 
 
 " His sister had a letter from him. It did not interest
 
 SALLY S CHOICE. 57 
 
 me, and I thought it would not interest you," replied the 
 daughter, looking at the flowers she was pulling to pieces 
 between her fingers. 
 
 "She's a-lying," muttered the old man between his 
 teeth. 
 
 "There was nothing between you and Sammy, was 
 there, Sally ? " 
 
 " Oh dear, no," said the girl ; " what put such an idea 
 in your head ? "" 
 
 " You never writ him any letters or such like, did 
 ye?" 
 
 " Me ! " said Sally with a forced laugh. " Do you think 
 I write to all the young men who keep company with 
 me?" 
 
 " I knew she was a-lying," again muttered the keen- 
 sighted old man. " Well, then, there's no harm done ; a 
 poor devil of a sailor's no match for my daughter in such 
 times as these." 
 
 " He never was a match," said the girl looking fiercely 
 at her father with her big black eyes. " What put all these 
 ideas in your head. You do not generally take so much 
 trouble about my sweethearts," and she blushed deeply as 
 she spoke. 
 
 " Why you see, Sally, I was a thinking if you had 
 led him on like, it might be kinder difficult to turn him 
 away, now he's poor you know. But as you say there's 
 nothing in it, I'm bound to believe you." The old man 
 rose from his seat, shook the ashes out of his pipe, and 
 coming up softly to his daughter, laid his hand on her 
 glossy hair. 
 
 " You see, my darter, the boys are going to have their
 
 58 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 share of my property in money, when I die, and I will 
 give your sister the farm she now lives on. So she will be 
 comfortable. I always hoped that this old place would go 
 down to your children. You've always taken care of me 
 since mother died, so I want you to marry some man 
 well-off in the world, and one who can take a stand in the 
 town and among his neighbors." 
 
 The girl's eyes had filled with tears as the old man 
 spoke, and she rested her cheek against his rough hand. 
 " I'll never marry, father," she said ; " we will always live 
 here, as we have done these last five years." 
 
 "That's as may be," said the Deacon. " I thought it 
 would be kind like to ask Sammy down. I thought, 
 maybe, I might help him to earn an honest living, for he 
 talked something of going in the army. He said he'd 
 come down this afternoon and talk the matter over. I just 
 thought I'd tell you, so you might know how to act." 
 The old man chuckled, as he walked towards the barn- 
 yard. "If that doesn't fix it, they're two darned fools," 
 he muttered. 
 
 The girl sat still in the porch with a bewildered look. It 
 was the first time in her life that her father had ever spoken 
 to her of any of her actions. She had been in the very fullest 
 sense allowed the liberty which every American girl claims 
 almost as her birthright. She had known Griswold since her 
 earliest childhood ; he had been her playmate and boy lover, 
 and their attachment had been mutual. Unable to control 
 the natural coquetry of her disposition, she had played with 
 the passion of the sailor until he left, and then she sent 
 him the strongest proof of her affection in the lock of hair. 
 Long and anxiously she had watched and waited for his
 
 SALLY S CHOICE. 59 
 
 return from a voyage, which she had understood was to be a 
 short one. He came home, but it was not, as usual, to hasten 
 to D . A letter to his sister, of which she only saw a 
 portion, spoke vaguely of other plans and intentions. 
 Stung to madness, the girl fell back upon herself, and 
 bitter were the thoughts and intentions that pretty head 
 revolved, by which she would snap forever the last link 
 which bound him to her. All this did not prevent Miss 
 Sally from making herself look as pretty and attractive as 
 lay in her power. Her best white dress, the few little orna- 
 ments which their simple habits allowed, her long glossy 
 ringlets in the fashion of the day, worn loose and flowing, 
 tied with a blue ribbon. 
 
 The long June evening was deepening into night, as 
 the Deacon sat by the window smoking his never-failing 
 pipe. He had been watching his child as she slowly walked 
 up and down the path which led from the house to the 
 gate. The look he cast on her was one half of amuse- 
 ment half of sorrow. Few would have given the shrewd 
 old Yankee farmer credit for the tender spot which lin- 
 gered in that toil-worn frame. He did remember not many 
 of us do that he had been young. The memories of past 
 years came back to him a fair form so like his daugh- 
 ter's. He had always, on that account, loved her more 
 than all his children she was so like her mother. When 
 should he see her again ? For the first time his stern 
 Puritan faith was shaken. He needed no exposition on 
 that subject. She was of the elect. A low murmur of voices 
 had struck his ear for some time, without rousing his at- 
 tention, when leaning somewhat forward, he certainly saw 
 two persons, very close to each other, on that vine-covered
 
 6O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 porch. The girl was sitting, leaning back against the railing, 
 and as the faint light of evening stole softly over her, the 
 Deacon thought he could distinguish, yes, he was certain 
 he could, the head of a man. The man must be standing 
 on the ground just behind her, which brought his head to 
 a level with hers. Deacon Knapp had never studied light 
 and shade, or the effect of foreshortening, but it certainly 
 did look like a man's arm, that dark shadow which was 
 thrown around the young girl's dress. There is much 
 dry humor in the American character, and it was with a 
 chuckle of malicious pleasure that the old man stood 
 about an hour later in the open door-way. 
 
 " Why, Sammy, is that you, I've been expecting you 
 the whole evening. You must have been powerful lonely, 
 all alone here by yourself. Sally, come in, come in, 
 we'll have a light and then a man can see yer. My eyes 
 ain't as good as they used to be." 
 
 His daughter sprang, blushing and confused, past the 
 smiling old man, and hid herself in the recesses of her 
 own room. 
 
 The young sailor followed his host into the sitting- 
 room. Never before had he endured such an agony of 
 fear. When " well-to-do," more than commonly rich, in this 
 world's goods, he had hesitated to meet the clear, cold eye 
 of Sally's father ; now, shipwrecked in fortune, what was 
 he to say ? 
 
 The old man struck a light, and slowly turned to the 
 silent, almost trembling man. 
 
 " Well." It was only one syllable, but oh ! how hard 
 to answer. 
 
 "Deacon Knapp, Sally and I have agreed. No, its all
 
 SALLY'S CHOICE. 61 
 
 my own doings. I want to marry your daughter. I've 
 nothing in the world to offer but a strong pair of hands, 
 and an honest love." 
 
 " Well." 
 
 If Griswold had been guilty of neglect, the punishment 
 was awful. Could the old man say nothing but "well." 
 
 " Well, why I want her father's consent and blessing, 
 that's all." 
 
 " You could have had that any time you'd asked for 
 it these four years." He struck his hand into that of the 
 sailor. " May the God of our fathers' bless you both. I 
 love money as much as most men do, but I love an honest 
 heart and sound principles better, and I believe you've 
 got both, Captain Griswold." 
 
 There was a slight rustle at the door, which did not 
 escape the Deacon's ear. 
 
 " Come in, Sally, and act reasonable. I'm going to 
 bed in five minutes, but first " And as the Deacon spoke, 
 he took down from a shelf an old, carefully studied Bible, 
 and laid it on the table, putting on a pair of horn glasses. 
 " Jist call the help. We'll read a chapter of the blessed 
 Book, and ask a favor of the Almighty on this poor, suf- 
 fering, dimmicrat-ridden country of our'n, before we say 
 good-night."
 
 CHAPTER VI. 
 
 EPH. 
 
 " And there's a nice youngster of excellent pith 
 Fate tried to conceal him by naming him Smith ; 
 But he shouted a song for the brave and the free 
 Just read on his medal, ' My Country ' of thee ! " 
 
 HOLMES. 
 
 PHRAIM DODGE was the son of a poor ne'er- 
 do-well " inhabitant of the village. When a 
 boy, he had been taken into the family of Dr. 
 Spencer to do odd " chores," as the current 
 Yankee word expressed it, and to make himself generally 
 useful a servant he never considered himself. In his 
 own opinion he formed an integral portion of the family. 
 The Doctor, to whom teaching was a passion, had labored 
 to instil all that he himself knew into the shrewd-headed 
 boy, but in vain. Not that Eph. did not possess the 
 necessary intellect, for in that respect he was uncommonly 
 gifted, but it did not show itself in book-learning. In .all 
 things that concerned a bargain, in making the most of the 
 Doctor's little farm, in buying for him the best cows at 
 the lowest price, and selling them at the highest rate, when 
 they ceased giving milk, in such things he had no equal. 
 It was, however, all done with an eye to his own personal
 
 EPH. 63 
 
 advantage ; a circumstance which provoked Mrs. Spen- 
 cer's loud-spoken indignation, and was to the Doctor a 
 never-failing source of the keenest enjoyment. What 
 Eph. did with his money, was, and always had been, a 
 mystery. There were no Savings Banks in those days, nor 
 was Eph. known to be an invester in any of the ordinary 
 securities of the times. He was grudgingly liberal to his 
 father, but required him to account strictly for every dollar 
 advanced. When questioned as to his means, his answers 
 were short and reserved. " He guessed he'd take as good 
 care of the little he had, as any one he knew of." At least 
 those were his sentiments. Perhaps the strong passion of 
 the man's nature was for Edward Mason. Although sev- 
 eral years younger, he had been his playmate, and looked 
 up to him with the homage a little boy always pays to a 
 big boy. He kept up a correspondence with him at long 
 intervals, writing shrewd, clever letters, full of local gossip, 
 and intimating rather than actually stating his full under- 
 standing of the relationship which existed between Sibyl 
 and himself. In person Ephraim was rather above middle 
 height, and although slight, was remarkable for his strength 
 and activity. His clear cold blue eye, and curly light 
 brown hair marked his genuine Saxon descent. 
 
 It was on a bright, lovely morning, the dew still fresh 
 upon the grass, that Eph. accosted the Doctor who was 
 sauntering up and down the little grass plot by the side of 
 the house drinking in the fragrance of the June flowers 
 before entering upon the labors of the day. 
 
 " I guess," said the man suddenly, stopping in front of 
 the Doctor, " I've made a bargain for you this morning." 
 
 " How so, Eph. ? " asked the Doctor, looking at him
 
 64 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 kindly as he stood before him, his hat on the back of his 
 head, opening and shutting the blade of a large jack-knife, 
 and occasionally varying the operation by picking his 
 teeth with it. 
 
 " Why, I've traded that short-horn cow of our'n with 
 Major Bailey for his brindle heifer and five dollars to boot. 
 That's all ! " 
 
 There was an air of supreme satisfaction in Eph.'s 
 manner as if the transaction was one the difficulty of 
 which insured high commendation. 
 
 " Of course you told the Major," said the Doctor with 
 a twinkle in his eye, " that the old cow let run her milk ? " 
 
 " Well, no," answered the other, " he didn't ask me." 
 
 " Now, look here, my boy, I have no objection to your 
 making a good bargain for me on the contrary, I profit 
 by it. But none of my flock must say I took advantage of 
 them." 
 
 " Did he tell me his'n was a kicker ? " asked Eph, 
 deeply exploring the recesses of his mouth. 
 
 " Does she kick ? " 
 
 " The worst in the township. I went ove.r to the Ma- 
 jor's twice at milking-time, kinder neighbor-like, and so 
 took in the situation." 
 
 " If that is the case, how am I benefited ? " said the 
 Doctor rather angrily. 
 
 Eph. retained the same imperturbable coolness. 
 
 " A piece of rope won't cost you more nor ten cents." 
 
 " What am I "to do with a piece of rope ? Hang the 
 creature ? 
 
 " Tie her hind legs, she can't kick then," continued 
 Eph.
 
 EPH. 65 
 
 " Why did not Bailey do that ? and why did you not 
 tell him of so simple a remedy ? " 
 
 " Can't say," said the man. " In the first place he 
 didn't ask me, and it wasn't part of my business to interfere 
 with his women folk." 
 
 The Doctor laughed and turned to enter the house. 
 
 " Hadn't we better," continued the man in the same 
 imperturbable tone, " settle that ' five dollar ' business ? " 
 
 " That's easily done," said the Doctor stopping and 
 extending his hand. 
 
 " Well now, you see, I didn't get the five dollars in 
 money exactly." 
 
 "So?" 
 
 " I owed a bill to the Major's for sundries, and he paid 
 himself on account. 
 
 " So," said the Doctor, " you owe me that amount." 
 
 " Well, not exactly. You see, when I paid for the 
 painting of the old chaise, Leach took that one-year-old 
 hog of mine in part pay of his bill. So I just put one 
 agin the other. Do you see ? " 
 
 " I see somehow or another that I have not got the five 
 dollars," said the Doctor, turning to enter the house. 
 
 Ephraim was too good a tactician to prolong a useless 
 discussion. " So Ed. and Sibyl have come together at 
 last, have they?" he continued, again arresting the Doc- 
 tor on his way to the door. 
 
 "Yes, thanks be to the Almighty Disposer of all 
 things," said the Doctor. " Are you not pleased, my boy ? " 
 
 " Guess it went a little agin the grain with the old lady, 
 didn't it ? " asked Ephraim, in rather a more drawling tone 
 than usual. 
 
 5
 
 66 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 The Doctor looked at him with astonishment. 
 
 "Why, my wife loves Edward as if he were her own 
 son," he said at length. 
 
 " May be ! But it doesn't follow that she'd wish to turn 
 the relationship into that of 'son-in-law/ does it?" 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said the old gentleman. 
 " Speak out plainly, can you not? " 
 
 " It always appeared to me as if she'd sot her cap for 
 Mr. Hamilton. Remember, I only think so." 
 
 " Pshaw ! " said the Doctor, half angrily yet still greatly 
 amused. 
 
 This conversation had taken place within a few feet of 
 the open dining-room windows, one of the blinds of which 
 was pushed back, and Mrs. Spencer leaned out 
 
 " Why cannot you take a basket and get me some eggs 
 at the store, Ephraim, if you think there are none in the 
 barn." 
 
 " Well, I don't know nothing to hinder," he answered, 
 following with his eyes the Doctor's retreating figure. 
 
 It was full a minute before he moved, and then, while 
 still within sight of the lady, he only lounged along, sing- 
 ing in a low but perfectly audible voice, a verse from 
 one of the old psalms then only used in New England 
 churches : 
 
 " Great was the work, the neighbors cried, 
 And owned the power divine ; 
 Great was the wcrk, my heart replied, 
 And be the glory thine." 
 
 It was impossible for the Doctor to keep his co'unte- 
 nance, and he entered the dining-room convulsed with
 
 EPH. 67 
 
 laughter, only to find his wife, as far as her sweet temper 
 would allow, in a violent rage, and his daughter covered 
 with blushes. 
 
 " How is it possible, Doctor," said his wife, " you can 
 permit such familiarity towards you ! It all comes from 
 your persisting in remaining in this little country town, 
 where neither your talents nor your character have free 
 scope. If I had had my way, you would have been as 
 prominent in your line as our neighbor, Mr. Hamilton, is 
 in his ! " 
 
 " My dear," said the Doctor gently, " no one loves or 
 admires Mr. Hamilton more than I do : no one envies him 
 less. As for the ' familiarity,' as you call it of that boy, it is 
 only humor, a little broad, I admit, but still very innocent. 
 He is devoted in his attachment to our family, and I am 
 sure we all feel towards him as if he were in reality a mem- 
 ber of it." 
 
 " Oh, I don't deny," replied Mrs. Spencer, " that Eph- 
 raim possesses many good qualities, but I find fault with 
 his excessive familiarity." 
 
 " That, my dear, is one of the consequences of our 
 American education. You can never make them servants. 
 As it is, he does the work of three men, but to a certain 
 extent license of speech must be allowed." 
 
 " But to think," continued Mrs. Spencer, "of his daring 
 to say ' I set my cap for Mr. Hamilton for our Sibyl ? ' ' 
 
 " Well, my dear, that is a question we will not discuss, 
 I fear my testimony would be adverse to your wishes." 
 
 As the Doctor uttered this last sentence he left the 
 room, exchanging a smile with his daughter. 
 
 There was a pause, during which Mrs. Spencer busied
 
 68 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 herself in washing the breakfast things, and handed them 
 to her daughter to wipe and put away. 
 
 " Dear me," at last said the old lady, " this blue set is 
 getting terribly broken. There are hardly plates enough 
 for the family when we are alone." 
 
 "Yes, mother," said Sibyl, evidently thinking of far 
 different things than a broken set of old India china. 
 
 " I wonder if your father could not get one of those 
 India merchants to import him enough to complete the set?" 
 
 " I greatly fear, mother, that we shall suffer for many 
 things much more necessary than India china if this war 
 lasts," answered Sibyl. 
 
 " Plague take the war, and the hateful democrats who 
 brought it on. You know, Sibyl, I always intended giving 
 you my white china, with the gold edges, when you were 
 married." 
 
 " Yes, mother." 
 
 " It is as handsome as any I have ever seen, in any of 
 the grand houses in New Haven. Ah, me ! " she con- 
 tinued with a deep sigh, " I did hope to see my daughter 
 take her station in the world, but I must submit." 
 
 " Mother, dear mother," said Sibyl, " why will you say 
 those things why do you wound me ? " 
 
 " Wound you ? what is there to wound you, in saying 
 that I had hoped to see you take a high station in society ? " 
 
 " Can you not feel how sad it makes me, to think, that 
 when I am about to marry the man I love, my mother harps 
 on other plans as chimerical as the hues of the rainbow." 
 
 " Chimerical ? " said Mrs. Spencer; " I am not so sure of 
 that, Sibyl. I believe you had only to say yes and you 
 would have been the first lady in the State."
 
 EPH. 69 
 
 " But, mother, admitting you may be right," answered 
 her daughter blushing deeply, " would you have me marry 
 a man no matter how much I might admire and respect 
 him, whom I do not love ? " 
 
 " Well, now, Sibyl, that is the very point with which I 
 find fault ; no, not fault, but which I am sorry about ; why 
 did you not love him ? I am sure he is a man everybody 
 must admire." 
 
 " Answer me one question, mother When you mar- 
 ried father, was it only because you admired him ? " 
 
 " Why, you foolish child, your father and I loved one 
 another when we were little children." 
 
 Mrs. Spencer brightened, as the memories of past days 
 came freshly to her. 
 
 " Your father, my dear, was even then a remarkable man 
 I may say he was so before he became one." 
 
 Carried away as she was by her enthusiasm, it was 
 impossible for Sibyl to resist a smile at the naivete of her 
 mother's remark. 
 
 " And now, mother, would you, with all these sweet 
 memories clustering around you, would you have me sacri- 
 fice such as these for the paltry ambition of an exalted 
 station in society ? There is a higher, there is a nobler life, 
 one in which self is forgotten one in which all the secret 
 feelings of the heart become to us plain realities ; one, 
 mother, which you must know one you have felt. You 
 must have heard " 
 
 " I should think I had," interrupted the old lady. " Do 
 you think I have been married almost thirty years, to the 
 greatest divine in New England, and have heard him 
 preach morning and evening every Sabbath day, and do
 
 7O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 not know something about a higher life ? Why you must 
 take me for a fool ! " 
 
 " Oh ! I mean more than that." 
 
 " More than Heaven, child ? " 
 
 " Certainly not, dear mother, nothing can be higher 
 than where God sits. But I mean a higher life here on 
 earth. A life in which objective thoughts, and hopes and 
 fears, are lost and buried in the deep subjective of the 
 future." 
 
 " Not meaning to interrupt you, Sibyl, if that boy 
 Ephraim has not brought home those eggs, I shall not be 
 able to make that custard for dinner ; and I should not 
 like to let Edward think I neglect him, and you remember 
 how much he has always liked my custard." 
 
 As she said this, the old lady, who was deeply learned 
 in objective things, bustled out of the room, leaving her 
 daughter, half inclined to laugh and half to cry. Left 
 alone, Sibyl drew her chair by the open window, and gazed 
 over the long meadows, sleeping in the hazy light of the 
 summer morning. Ardent, enthusiastic, poetic in her 
 nature, she felt all the longing which such a nature must 
 feel, to have a second self, into which she could breathe as 
 it were, the undeveloped thoughts and feelings of her own 
 heart. How long she had sat there, she did not know, 
 when a low voice said in her ear, 
 
 " Why, lovely infidel, how now, 
 
 What clouds that unbelieving brow ? " 
 
 Edward had approached quietly the window by which 
 she was seated, and leaning his arms on the side was within
 
 EPH. 7 1 
 
 a foot of her, without her knowledge, so absorbed was her 
 reverie. 
 
 " No, Edward," she said with a start, " I am no infidel, 
 in any thing which concerns faith, or love, or trust in you. 
 I was only dreaming, dreaming in the very ecstasy of my 
 own happiness." 
 
 " And what was ' Love's young dream ? ' make me a 
 sharer in your thoughts ? " 
 
 Sibyl passed her hand caressingly over her lover's 
 brown curls, as she said : 
 
 " Have you never, dear, in listening to one of those old 
 symphonies I am so fond of playing, felt as if there was 
 a something which you could not put in words, which no 
 language could interpret, something higher, holier, deeper 
 than any expression of man ? So it has been with me, ever 
 since you told me that you loved me. I have felt as if 
 the deep yearning of my woman's nature had become 
 strengthened, and that I should seek to lose myself, and 
 become only centred and bound up, now and forever, in 
 you and you only." 
 
 " Sibyl, my own darling, it is most charming to have 
 you tell me such things. I do not know what you mean 
 by secret sympathies or unspoken language ; but I do know 
 that I love you as my very self. I could stand all day and 
 look into those sweet brown eyes, hold this little soft white 
 hand, and whisper only ' I love.' But, dearest, you are 
 too poetical for a nature like mine." 
 
 " Oh, no, Edward ! " said Sibyl bending down until her 
 cheek touched that of her lover, " it is not poetry, it is 
 only the depth of a woman's love." 
 
 How much longer this little scene might have lasted
 
 72 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 is doubtful, had not Ephraim intruded himself into the 
 apartment. There was something very comical in the 
 bashful, shy way in which the usually forward young man 
 entered the room. It was a very serious duty he had 
 come to perform. He had not as yet offered his congratu- 
 lations to either Sibyl or Edward. 
 
 ' ; You see now, Ed., I didn't get any chance to say no- 
 thing to either of you yesterday, and I couldn't have you 
 think you were neglected." 
 
 Sibyl blushed deeply as she turned and held out her 
 hand to the young man. 
 
 " I felt certain, Eph., we had a friend in you, who would 
 sympathize in our happiness. Believe me, there is no one 
 whose congratulations give me more pleasure." 
 
 " I ain't much at making fine speeches, Sibyl, but I have 
 lived pretty much in this house, like my own father's. That 
 wouldn't be saying much, you see, as I've taken care of the 
 old man for ten years ; but I do hope God will bless you 
 and yours." 
 
 Rough peasant as he was, Edward had never wrung a 
 more honest hand. 
 
 But there was something more to be said, there was a 
 question to be met, far more serious, and one which 
 Ephraim's prosaic nature appreciated keenly. 
 
 "Ned, you see, I don't think when any thing important's 
 to be done, that the wife should not be consulted, and I 
 look upon our Sibyl now, as standing in that relation to 
 you, as much as if you had been called three times." 
 
 Edward laughed as he answered, " You are quite right, 
 Sibyl does and will stand in that relation as long as life 
 doth last."
 
 EPH. 73 
 
 Eph. drew a chair to the window and seating himself, 
 bent over so that his head was close to those of the two 
 young people, as he spoke in a low but very solemn tone 
 
 " Ye see, when I went over to the store to get them 
 eggs for madam. I found there had been a kind of meeting 
 of the young men last evening. I suppose you didn't know 
 nothing about it, as you two were walking in the long 
 meadow in the moonshine did ye ? " 
 
 " How did you know any tiling if you were watching us 
 so closely ? " said Edward angrily. 
 
 " Now don't get riled ; you see they sent me word 
 they wanted me to act as moderator like ; but I kinder 
 thought I would see how the cat jumped first. Well, the 
 long and the short of it is, that they are going to send a 
 committee to ax you if you will command a company, if 
 the boys engage to enlist for the war." 
 
 Sibyl grew ghastly pale, and her hands clasped them- 
 selves convulsively together as they lay in' her lap. 
 
 Edward felt that the crisis of his life was at hand. 
 
 " Well, my dear fellow, you know as well as I, that if 
 they enlist, the government will muster them in any regi- 
 ment it pleases, without regard to wishes or feelings." 
 
 " You. see, now," continued Ephraim, " that is jist the 
 p'int we ain't a-going to serve either under a southern 
 chap nor under a dimmicrat nuther." 
 
 "What earthly objection can you have," interrupted 
 Edward, " to an officer being a democrat in politics ?" 
 
 " Well, we won't discuss it," said the other with a motion 
 of his hand. " Most generally they prefer to serve in the 
 " home guards." But as to them southerners, when that 
 'ere chap said in Congress, ' The north should find the men,
 
 74 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 and the south the officers to command them,' we kinder 
 thought we would show them there was some of the old 
 stock left in Connecticut yet." 
 
 " Well, Eph., if a commission[can be had," said Edward 
 slowly, and without raising his eyes to Sibyl's, " I think 
 they have placed me in a position from which a man can- 
 not retire with honor. What do you intend doing ? " 
 
 " Pretty much what you does. Ye see, when we three 
 trained in that field, you was always captain, Sibyl carried 
 the flag, and I beat the drum guess I'll stick to rny 
 colors." 
 
 " And you, Sibyl you, my darling, what do you say ? " 
 asked Edward, taking the little soft white hand in his, and 
 pressing it to his lips. 
 
 Sibyl's voice choked in her effort to keep down the sobs 
 that would come. 
 
 " Go, Edward go,my love, my husband, if duty or honor 
 call. But oh ! Gracious Father, hold him in Thy keeping ; 
 or if he must fall a sacrifice on his country's altar wash 
 him pure in the ' deep Jordan of Thy Love ! ' "
 
 CHAPTER VII. 
 
 WAR OR PEACE. 
 
 " All that a sister State should do, all that a free State may, 
 Heart, hand and purse we proffer, as in our early day ; 
 But that one dark, loathsome burden ye must stagger with alone, 
 And reap the bitter harvest which ye yourselves have sown." 
 
 WHITTIER. 
 
 YEAR had elapsed. The regiment to which 
 Edward Mason was attached was stationed on 
 the Canada line near the head of Lake Cham- 
 plain. So far his company had been kept to- 
 gether, and, save a few trifling skirmishes, had seen little 
 or no active service. He had benefited in no slight de- 
 gree by this period of inaction, for he had devoted himself 
 to the study of his new profession, and had the reward of 
 knowing that the soldiers of his company were better 
 drilled and more orderly than any in the division. 
 
 Congress had made a second call for troops, and the 
 administration, still untaught by the blunders of a previous 
 year, had again attempted in New England the ruinous 
 policy of drafting the militia into the regular army. The 
 passions of the people were again lashed into fury, and 
 dark threats broke out of separate and divided action on 
 the part of the New England States, supported as they 
 were strongly by both New Jersey and New York. Ed- 
 ward Mason, to his surprise, was ordered to report to the 
 
 (75)
 
 76 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 commanding officer in New York city, and was allowed a 
 few days' leave of absence, which he improved by spending 
 a night at D . 
 
 He was shocked to see the effect which so short a time 
 had produced in his old and respected friend. Dr. Spen- 
 cer, although still but little over sixty, was very feeble, a 
 disease but little understood by the medical skill of the 
 day having attacked the vital functions. It required no 
 experienced eye to foresee that unless some unexpected 
 change should take place, his days were numbered. 
 
 Even Sibyl's joy at again seeing her lover hardly ex- 
 ceeded that of the Doctor. His voice trembled, his eyes 
 filled with tears, as he clasped the young man's hand and 
 gazed at him long and lovingly. 
 
 " I hardly dared to hope that I should see you again, 
 my son. My heart is too full for utterance. I can only 
 praise God's holy name." 
 
 The deep interest which Dr. Spencer took in all that 
 related to the progress of the war, and the many questions 
 he asked about the various movements of the troops, soon 
 exhausted his strength, and Edward left him to the care of 
 his wife. 
 
 Sibyl's nature was too concentrated to allow her to be 
 very demonstrative, but there was a light in her eyes, a 
 tremulous softness in the clasp of her hand, which spoke a 
 language the heart soon learns to read. It was inexpres- 
 sibly sweet to wander under the big elms hour after hour, 
 to see the light of love beam in the eyes of the girl who 
 clung to his arm, to feel so well that which words can never 
 tell. It was with a start that the lovers awoke to find 
 that the long summer day had been all too short.
 
 WAR OR PEACE. 77 
 
 Deacon Knapp had heard of Edward's arrival, and, 
 anxious to see him, had walked over with his son-in-law to 
 the parsonage. 
 
 Sally had been married more than a year, and had set- 
 tled down as a sober matron. 
 
 A little scion of the house of Griswold made the old 
 homestead resound with his cries, and was the delight of 
 his grandfather. 
 
 Griswold himself was restless and uneasy. A sailor 
 never entirely shakes off that love of adventure and excite- 
 ment which soon becomes his second nature. This feeling 
 was increased in the young man by the ovations which his 
 townsmen and fellow-sailors were everywhere receiving for 
 their successes on the ocean. Fond and happy with his 
 wife, an honest, industrious, true-hearted man, still he 
 longed to make one of the brave band who were carrying 
 their country's flag in triumph. His wife saw all this with 
 the quick eye of a woman who loves, saw it and sighed, 
 but felt she was powerless to resist. 
 
 To her astonishment she found her father shared in his 
 feelings. It was not in the Deacon's nature to speak, but 
 every time an account came of another victory, he looked 
 at his son-in-law as if wondering he could remain at home. 
 
 Griswold chafed under it like a chained lion. 
 
 " Now, Edward, my boy," said the Deacon, as the two 
 entered the room in which tea was being prepared, "you've 
 come back to us, have ye ? Ye didn't do much up on the 
 Canada line, but you were in the way of trying, and that's 
 something." 
 
 " No," answered Edward with a laugh, warmly shaking 
 the old man's hand j " we certainly have not covered our-
 
 78 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 selves with glory there, but at any rate we were willing to 
 try, as you say." 
 
 " Well, that's something, praise the Lord ! " muttered 
 the old man. " There's no knowing what may happen if 
 you keep on in that way. ' 
 
 " Edward tells me," said Dr. Spencer, " that the great 
 difficulty lies in the want of organization in every depart- 
 ment the utter absence of any head. That it is not so 
 much the want of military skill as of a firm and controll- 
 ing hand." 
 
 " Tell now," said the Deacon, taking up his leg and 
 nursing it fondly ; " I had heard ye didn't get your supplies 
 regular." 
 
 " Supplies," said Edward, " we had an abundance of 
 every thing we did not need, and frequently a total absence 
 of the barest necessaries of life. Do you know, sir," turn- 
 ing to Dr. Spencer, " the day before I left, a train of wag- 
 ons reached Chateaugay, where my regiment is encamped 
 in the midst of an almost primeval forest, laden with tent 
 poles, and they had brought them all the way from Wash- 
 ington. Tent poles, and there was not flour or pork 
 enough in camp to feed the division for a week." 
 
 " People say," said Griswold, " that our new secretary, 
 General Armstrong, is a thoroughly educated soldier. 
 Perhaps he can bring order out of this chaos." 
 
 " Heaven knows it is wanted," replied the other. " It 
 is no breach of military duty to say that every general in 
 the army is at loggerheads with the other that there is no 
 discipline nor, what is even more needed, no good morals 
 among the commanders." 
 
 " It is sad," said the Doctor, " to be obliged to sit still
 
 WAR OR PEACE. 79 
 
 and see evil counsels and intriguing politicians sap the 
 foundations of ' Time's noblest empire.' " 
 
 " Well, you see now, Doctor," said the Deacon, " this 
 all comes of forgetting the service of the Lord. I'm not 
 going to say any thing ag'in the constituted authorities. 
 They're sot over us in the flesh, and we're bound to give 
 them honor. But this I do say, when we see a large pro- 
 portion of the people bowing down to Belial and worship- 
 ping the man of sin, a-willing to be bound to the chariot 
 wheels of this Bonaparte, I feel as if the blood of the men 
 who testified before the council and in the field the men 
 who came over here when this was nothing better than a 
 howling wilderness, rather than acknowledge the 'scarlet 
 woman ' would like to burst in my veins." 
 
 " Why, Deacon," said Griswold, " I never heard you 
 say such things before." 
 
 " Nor would you now, my son, but there is a p'int where 
 human nature can't stand these things no longer and keep 
 silence." 
 
 " Dr. Spencer " the old man was excited, but there was 
 something grand in the very intensity of his nature, and in 
 the strong feelings which had now broken down the re- 
 serve of a lifetime " Dr. Spencer, my religion and my 
 education have made me a law-abiding citizen. In my 
 humble way I helped to build up this country ; I shed 
 my blood at Brandy wine, and at the Cow Pens, to strike 
 at tyranny in high places. I would shed it now, to the 
 last drop, if the cause was a just one. It was freedom 
 then we fought for is it for freedom we are asked now 
 to give our children and our money ? " 
 
 " Hush ! hush, my old friend," said the Doctor, " such
 
 8o SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 men as you must not speak, nay, not even cultivate 
 such doctrines in times like these. Our rulers may not 
 be such as we would have chosen, but they are our 
 rulers. This country is our country, not sectional, but one 
 common heritage : would you divide and break up into 
 factions what should be a common unit ? " 
 
 " Deacon Knapp," said Griswold, " I am your son-in- 
 law ; I returned here a poor broken-down sailor ; you gave 
 me your daughter, your home has been my home, your fire- 
 side my fireside. In politics as in religion I agree with 
 you, but by the God of my fathers, the bright flag of my 
 country shall not be torn down ! I can stand this no 
 longer. Right or wrong, I enter the service to-morrow." 
 
 " Well, now, Sammy," replied the Deacon growing calm 
 and speaking in his natural tone, "you don't astonish 
 me much. I have been a kind of wondering you haven't 
 been there before. I know it's hard to leave our Sally, 
 not to speak of the boy. But it's nature in us Yankees, as 
 those southern chaps call us, to strike for the flag." 
 
 " But, Deacon Knapp," said Sibyl, speaking for the 
 first time since she had entered the room, " is there not a 
 battle-field into which age can enter, and in which even 
 women can play their part ? " 
 
 " I do not quite take your meaning, child," replied the 
 Deacon. 
 
 " I mean," said the girl flushing with the excitement of 
 the moment, " is there not here at home, here in the quiet 
 villages of New England, a contest going on, far more 
 dangerous to the future of our country than any which 
 stains with blood the fields of Canada ? Is there not, I ask 
 you at this moment, an effort being made to separate the
 
 WAR OR PEACE. 8 1 
 
 New England States from the common country ? And is it 
 not our duty-, the duty of all, weak helpless women, of you 
 old men, of infancy itself, to resist this impulse, to give our- 
 selves and all we possess to the cause of our country, and 
 to support this war, even though we know it to be a wicked 
 and an unholy war ? " 
 
 " She speaks truly, Deacon," said the Doctor. " The 
 resolutions which have passed the houses of assembly, the 
 tone of our State rulers themselves, honest, patriotic men 
 as I believe them to be, this determination to abide by the 
 law, but only by the letter of the law, all shows that a 
 crisis is at hand." 
 
 " Well," answered the other, " I expect you're right ; 
 more than that, I know you're right. But now doesn't it 
 strike you as a little hard, that we New Englanders we 
 that gave five men in the Revolution to every one the 
 south gave we that pay at this minute more than one half 
 the taxes we, and the Yorkers who feel as we do, at least 
 the best of 'em do, that we should be plunged into war with 
 a country we love, with a people as has the same religion, 
 as reads the same books, as has the same laws, whose 
 fathers were our fathers, whose names are our names, to 
 say nothing of our manners and customs. I ask you now, 
 if it isn't a little hard to keep up a Christian feeling in our 
 breasts ! " 
 
 " My dear old friend," said Dr. Spencer, " there is at the 
 bottom of this Union of ours, lying far down in its very 
 foundations, a curse, a weakness, to which even the lion- 
 hearted men who framed our constitution were subservient, 
 and it must be worked out. I mean slavery. For the 
 moment, I waive its inhumanity, its wickedness (for it is 
 
 6
 
 82 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 wicked, and God will curse it !), but view it in a political 
 point only it cannot be that a nation of freemen will 
 permit themselves to be ruled and governed by the slave 
 vote." 
 
 "Do you not think," said Edward, " that this question of, 
 slave representation is at the bottom of all the political 
 movements which have agitated this country for the last 
 twenty years ? " 
 
 " I do my boy I know it has been the one solitary 
 point to which the South, as a mass, have most tenaciously 
 clung. At this moment it is bringing sorrow and suffering 
 into a thousand peaceful families, but like all wrongs, and 
 it is a great wrong, it is working its own cure." 
 
 " The ways of Providence," said the Deacon, " are not 
 man's ways, nor can we find them out. But in my poor 
 judgment there is but little good in letting every man who 
 owns three niggers have one more vote than I have, simply 
 because he owns those niggers." 
 
 " Are we not begging the question," said Sibyl. " It is 
 not the slave vote which is wrong, but slavery itself. Can 
 an Infinite and good God hear unmoved the wail of the 
 meanest of his creatures ? " 
 
 " My child," said the old Pastor rising in his chair, 
 " as long as man's greed and selfishness can be gratified, 
 so long will he look unmoved on any scene of suffering. 
 Our New England merchants furnished ships and capital 
 for the slave trade ; the free States at this moment send 
 out thousands of adventurers to make new plantations all 
 over the south to be worked by slave labor. As long as 
 our voice was supreme in the councils of the land, just so 
 long did we ignore slavery and its evils. But now that we
 
 WAR OR PEACE. 83 
 
 are in the minority that we no longer stand first in the 
 land, now the scales have fallen from our eyes and we see 
 the light of truth even as blind Bartimaeus saw it as he 
 sat by the way-side begging." 
 
 " I admit all you say, my dear sir," said Edward, "and I 
 assert further, that here, where education exists here in the 
 midst of this free people here where to labor is to be re- 
 spected and to be idle is a disgrace, a sentiment is growing 
 hourly in the breasts of the people themselves, which will 
 never be silenced, until the curse of slavery is extinguished 
 in every section of the land." 
 
 " God grant it ! " said the Doctor, " and he will grant it. 
 I am a feeble man ; some inward voice tells me I am not 
 to be long on earth. Perhaps it may be in the spirit of 
 prophecy that I now speak ; but I firmly believe that, as 
 the God of Abraham, by the hand of his servant Moses, 
 brought his chosen people from the house of bondage, just 
 so surely will He, in his own good time, rend the manacles 
 from the Ethiopian's outstretched arms. How it will be 
 done He only knows probably in blood, in misery and 
 war. And I as firmly believe what we now suffer is but 
 preparatory to what we shall suffer for having consented, 
 aye, weakly consented, to the enslaving of our fellow-men."
 
 CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 A PRISONER. 
 
 " The moon shone down on old Cro' Nest, 
 And mellowed the shades on his shaggy breast ; 
 And seemed his giant form to throw 
 In a silver cone on the waves below." DRAKE. 
 
 HE duty with which Edward Mason was 
 charged was to take command of a party of 
 recruits destined to fill up the vacancies in 
 his own regiment. 
 Transportation was furnished by sloop to Albany, and 
 as he stood on the deck of the little vessel watching the 
 preparations to sail, he saw his old friend Mr. Hamilton 
 walking down the dock accompanied by a stranger. 
 
 The greeting between Edward and the celebrated Con- 
 necticut man was warm and friendly, more so on the part 
 of the older than of the younger man. 
 
 There had been something in Sibyl's manner on the 
 day when we first introduced her to our readers, a day on 
 which Edward had, as it were, surprised her with Mr. 
 Hamilton, which had aroused a strong feeling of jealousy 
 in his breast. He knew it to be unjust. His reason and 
 his heart told him he was the sole object of Sibyl's love. 
 But the passion had been excited, it only slumbered, it was 
 not dead. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton noticed the reserve on the young man's 
 (84)
 
 A PRISONER. 85 
 
 part with a melancholy smile. Their short conversation 
 was soon over, and he again turned to his companion. 
 They talked long and earnestly, and Edward noticed that 
 he himself was for some little time the subject of their re- 
 marks. The bustle of departure, the requirements of his 
 duty, most of the recruits being drunk and many dis- 
 orderly, drove the circumstance from his mind, and it was 
 not until late in the evening, just as the sloop was entering 
 the Highlands, that chance again threw him into close 
 company with the stranger. The latter was a man of 
 about forty, strongly built, although not over medium 
 height, with an intellectual face, deep, serious, melancholy 
 eyes, and an expression of great firmness about his mouth 
 and chin. His dress was the ordinary garb of a civilian 
 of the day. Plain, almost too plain, and yet worn as if not 
 the ordinary dress to which he was accustomed. He was 
 seated on a stool, leaning over the bulwarks of the sloop, 
 apparently watching the shadowy outlines of the moun- 
 tains just being brought into view by the rising moon. 
 As Edward drew near, he greeted him courteously and 
 motioned him to take a seat by him. 
 
 " My old friend, Mr. Hamilton," he said, " tells me 
 you are a lawyer by profession, a strong Federalist, and yet 
 you were prompted by love of country to enter the army. 
 How do you like your new life ? " 
 
 " As much as I have seen of it," answered Edward, " I 
 must frankly say I detest." 
 
 " Well," said the other with a haughty laugh, " one 
 would not say you were the stuff out of which to make a 
 soldier." 
 
 There was nothing offensive in the tone in which this
 
 86 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 was said, but Edward could not help a feeling of annoy- 
 ance. 
 
 " I see by your dress that you are not a soldier ; but 
 can there be any thing very agreeable to an educated man 
 in spending all his days in the minutiae of camp life 
 half of his time passed in drilling and the other half in 
 superintending the clothes, the food, even the personal 
 cleanliness of a set of men, too much like children either 
 to think or act for themselves ? " 
 
 " Not much, I admit," said the other ; " but one must 
 commence at the lowest round of the ladder, before one 
 can reach the top. Thee has had but little experience, 
 I presume, with any thing but this minutiae. Has thee 
 ever been under fire ? " 
 
 " Only once, and then but for a moment," replied Ed- 
 ward, " and I trust, as some of these men I am now watch- 
 ing are coming into my regiment, I may have time to break 
 them in a little before I am again under fire." 
 
 " They are not a bad lot," said the other, carelessly 
 lighting a cigar as he spoke. 
 
 " I wish they were all Americans," said Edward ; " the 
 majority of them are Irish, and many of them deserters 
 from English regiments into the bargain." 
 
 " So I supposed as I looked at their faces and way of 
 marching. The scoundrels will fight none the better for 
 having a rope round their necks." 
 
 " Will England," asked Edward, " carry out her threat 
 and hang all deserters she captures ? " 
 
 " Why not," said the other quickly; " would we not do 
 the same ? Is not the claim put forward on the part of 
 our government that this war is fought to prevent the
 
 A PRISONER. 87 
 
 impressment of American seamen, and do we not, by so 
 doing, assert the right not only to protect, but to command 
 the services of our own citizens ? Does thee think Wash- 
 ington would have hesitated to hang the traitor ' Arnold,' 
 had he fallen in his power ? Thy former profession should 
 have taught thee that crime is the same, no matter what 
 the rank of the offender." 
 
 " Certainly," said Edward, " I admit the truth of your 
 argument. My question was more directed to the policy of 
 the government than to the legal right ; and I now ask, 
 will our government carry out its threat of reprisals, should 
 the English general hang any of the deserters they may 
 recapture in arms against them ? " 
 
 " They say so," the stranger answered ; " my young 
 acquaintance, it is very easy for men who sit in high places 
 to issue orders, which bring them into no personal danger. 
 Tell me now, something of the country in which you are 
 stationed ; what are its military features, and what its re- 
 sources ? " 
 
 As Edward sketched rapidly an outline of the Chateau- 
 gay country,- his companion listened with deep attention. 
 His questions were few but pertinent, his manner calm 
 and commanding, to which Edward insensibly yielded. At 
 times he would relapse into the Quaker dialect, yet ev- 
 idently he was any thing but a 'man of peace.' He pointed 
 out to Edward the beauties of the river, naming headland 
 after headland as they came slowly into view, clothing 
 many of them with wild Indian legends, or quaint old 
 Dutch story, always told in the same low, soft voice, and 
 with the same calm, concentrated air. He repelled any 
 attempt at discovering who he was, and baffled Edward's
 
 88 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 most ingenious speculations. The faint tinge of early 
 dawn was breaking, when the sloop burst as it were 
 through the barrier of mountains and entered Newburgh 
 Bay. When opposite that then thriving little village, the 
 vessel was brought to, and her only boat manned. The 
 captain intimated to the stranger that she awaited his 
 orders. 
 
 " My young friend," he said, holding out his hand to 
 Edward, " we may meet again ; should such ever happen, 
 remember you have made a friend of Jacob Brown." 
 
 The rest of Edward's voyage presented nothing re- 
 markable. 
 
 Almost immediately after joining his regiment, a for- 
 ward movement was ordered in the direction of the Canada 
 line. 
 
 The division to which he belonged was under the im- 
 mediate command of Major-General Hampton, a gentle- 
 man by birth and a native of South Carolina. General 
 Hampton had served with credit in the Revolutionary 
 war, but age and long inactivity had unfitted him for active 
 duty. The entire force was four thousand effective infan- 
 try and a well equipped train of artillery. 
 
 The order to move was hailed with joy, and to Ed- 
 waVd's regiment was given the privilege of the advance 
 guard. The first day's march was extremely severe, being 
 twenty-four miles, but it brought them to an open country, 
 and almost within striking distance of the enemy under 
 General Prevost. Edward was in command of the advance 
 guard, and had been so fortunate as to capture several 
 prisoners, whom he sent into head-quarters. From the 
 men so taken, he learned that the enemy barely numbered
 
 A PRISONER. 89 
 
 twenty-four hundred, and were mostly Canadian militia. 
 Night closed in on the little army, hopeful and sanguine of 
 success. Before them was the city of Montreal, masters of 
 that, they divided the province. At this point, General 
 Hampton determined to send one brigade, under Colonel 
 Purdy, to the west of the Chateaugay river, a small stream, 
 with orders to gain a ford eight miles below, then recross 
 and attack the British commander in the rear, while the 
 other brigade, under his own supervision, should attack in 
 front. This united effort was to have been made at day- 
 break, and Edward received orders to hold his company 
 and one other that had been joined to his, in readiness to 
 advance in front in open order as skirmishers, the signal 
 being the sound of firing on his left. Hour after hour 
 passed, noon came, and still no signs of Colonel Purdy or 
 his brigade. A few useless shots had been fired during 
 the morning between the pickets, but these had ceased. 
 
 At this time General Izzard, the second in command, 
 rode up, and closely questioned Edward as to what had oc- 
 curred in front. It was soon told. Nothing ; absolutely 
 nothing. 
 
 "Take a dozen men with you, Captain Mason, and go 
 carefully forward, to feel if the enemy are still in our front. 
 Be careful ; and send back word from time to time." 
 
 " Shall I hold the ground I make, or fall back ?" asked 
 Edward. 
 
 " Hold it, if possible, we will support you ; but do not 
 go more than a mile." 
 
 Edward saluted, chose the men from his company, and 
 advanced cautiously. Every thing was as quiet as the grave ; 
 not a sign of the enemy. The birds twittered on the
 
 9O SIBYL SPENCER, 
 
 branches of the trees, and the landscape slumbered in all 
 the beauty of an October afternoon. 
 
 After walking rather more than a mile, Edward halted 
 his little band, and sent one of the most intelligent men to 
 the rear with his report. The men had scattered a little 
 through the immediate vicinity, and Edward seated himself 
 on the trunk of a fallen tree to watch. Hour after hour 
 passed ; the silence was unbroken. 
 
 Suddenly, in his front and on both flanks came the 
 sound of bugles, sounding a charge. He called in his 
 men, and fell back a little, waiting some further advance 
 by the enemy. 
 
 Again the same silence ; another hour passed, then 
 another, when the same sound of bugles again broke the 
 stillness of the night. Three times was this mysterious 
 mode of warfare repeated, and yet not one human being 
 had he either seen or heard. 
 
 The long night passed. The men had with them rations 
 for several days, and made themselves as comfortable as 
 they could, under the circumstances. Edward did not dare 
 to light any fires. 
 
 When morning broke, the sound of sharp firing was 
 heard in the rear, between his post and the main body. 
 Although his orders were to hold the ground he had ob- 
 tained, he still determined to take the responsibility of 
 falling back a short distance towards his supports. He 
 fell back ; no sign of a friend, and still the firing continued 
 with more and more severity. 
 
 Further and further Edward marched ; there were no 
 supports, there was no army. He had been forgotten, and 
 he and his little party were alone in the wilderness. Which
 
 A PRISONER. 91 
 
 way should he go ? Between him and his regiment there 
 was evidently a strong body of the enemy, and he was un- 
 der the impression that they had advanced round his -right 
 flank. He therefore determined to fall back, where he 
 supposed Colonel Purdy's brigade to be. The way was 
 almost impracticable. Swamp succeeded swamp in endless 
 succession. Just at nightfall he perceived a strong body 
 of men. Were they friends or foes ? 
 
 Advancing alone, very cautiously, he thought he distin- 
 guished the uniform of the United States' soldiers ; he 
 could not be mistaken. 
 
 Suddenly a voice called to him to halt. He was covered 
 by a dozen muskets he was a prisoner. Edward's first 
 thought was for his men. The sergeant with him was our 
 old acquaintance Eph., who had been promoted to that 
 rank, and Edward felt great confidence in his sagacity and 
 good sense. At any rate he could do nothing. He was civilly 
 treated, and taken before the commanding officer,a soldierly- 
 looking man in the uniform of a colonel of British infantry- 
 
 As he stood in front of this officer in charge of a guard, 
 the Colonel, who was seated on a log in front of a small 
 fire, raised his eyes, and seeing an officer, slightly touched 
 his cap. 
 
 " Ah ! a prisoner. Your rank, sir ? " 
 
 " Captain. 8th infantry." 
 
 " How came you in our rear ? " 
 
 " Commanded the advanced pickets, and got separated 
 from my command." 
 
 " Will you join me in some spirits and water," said the 
 Colonel, extending a glass, and pointing to a bottle which 
 stood near his feet.
 
 92 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 Edward gladly consented. He was faint with fatigue. 
 
 " Sit down," continued the officer, " and warm yourself. 
 Have I your parole ? " 
 
 Edward nodded ; there was nothing else to do. 
 
 " Your commanding officer lost his head. Did you hear 
 my bugles ? Sharp, was it not ? " and he laughed until the 
 tears stood in his eyes. At length he said, " Let me pre- 
 sent myself Lieut.-Col. de Salsberry, Brig.-Gen. by brevet, 
 and I have the honor, to etc., etc." 
 
 " Captain Edward Mason." 
 
 " Captain Mason, regret extremely, etc., make you as 
 comfortable as we can, under the circumstances. No - 
 doubt one of these young gentlemen will play host. Now 
 gentlemen," and he spoke sharply, " something else to be 
 attended to." - 
 
 Edward took the hint, and drew back. The young 
 officer to whom the General had motioned, a fine soldierly- 
 looking young man, gladly shared his supper with him, and 
 with his feet to a watch-fire, and the stars for a canopy, 
 Edward slept until the coming dawn re-echoed with the 
 martial airs of England. 
 
 He was then sent to the rear of the army, and with 
 some few other prisoners, marched as rapidly as possible to 
 a point on the St. Lawrence river, almost opposite to Mon- 
 treal. 
 
 As Edward stood musing, somewhat apart from his 
 fellow-prisoners, carelessly watching the preparations made 
 for their transportation, his arm was touched, and turning, 
 he saw the young officer who had treated him so kindly 
 the preceding evening. 
 
 Mason was extremely struck with his appearance and
 
 A PRISONER. 93 
 
 manners. There was a simplicity in his air, joined to a 
 careless negligence, almost amounting to indolence, which 
 was different from any thing he had ever before seen. 
 
 Captain Charles Harcourt, for such was his name, was 
 about Edward's age. He was considerably above medium 
 height, and most powerfully built. His complexion was 
 almost as dark as that of a Spaniard, large melancholy 
 hazel eyes, a mouth denoting great strength of will, clean- 
 cut features, and an air eminently high-bred and aristo- 
 cratic. He wore a long mustache (most unusual at that 
 time), which was dark like his hair, and his dress was the 
 full uniform of his rank, and of the " Guards," the regiment 
 to which he belonged. 
 
 " I have permission to take you with me," he said, 
 " and as I am sent to Quebec with dispatches for Sir 
 George, you will find travelling with me more pleasant, I 
 think, than marching under escort with the rest." 
 
 Edward assented gladly. 
 
 " Come along, then," continued the other, " and I will 
 get you a cup of coffee, and you shall share my luck in 
 the way of meals." As he spoke, he led the way down to 
 the river, where a very long birch-bark canoe, manned by 
 eight Canadian voyageurs, was lying. In the stern of the 
 canoe were spread several blankets and army cloaks, 
 making a very comfortable half couch, half seat. 
 
 " Make yourself comfortable, we have a long journey 
 before us," said Harcourt, " and I intend making myself 
 quite a Yankee before we get to Quebec." The men at 
 the signal pushed into the stream, and the light little ves- 
 sel danced on the surface of the dark St. Lawrence. Ed- 
 ward caught at the side of the canoe, and held his breath,
 
 94 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 much to his companion's amusement, who laughed heart- 
 ily at his half-frightened, half-confused expression of coun- 
 tenance. The men sat facing forward, and used a paddle 
 instead of an oar, keeping time perfectly and half rising 
 to each stroke. It was not five minutes before one of 
 them broke into a low monotonous song, the chorus of 
 which was chanted by his companions. The language the 
 men used was utterly incomprehensible to Mason, now 
 and then he could catch a French word, but the song was 
 evidently in the patois of the country. All that he could 
 understand led him to think it was an evening song to the 
 Virgin. 
 
 " One of the partners of the ' Hudson Bay Company' 
 lent me this craft. The men have just brought him down 
 the Lakes from Proctor's army, now holding or trying to 
 hold Detroit, I am not quite certain which," he added with 
 a laugh. " These men have been in the service of the 
 company for years, and except that twice a year they must 
 have their spree, they are thoroughly reliable. I have 
 promised them their fill of bad liquor, so we shall get 
 to Quebec quicker than in any other way." 
 
 The sun was sinking, making the heavens glow with 
 colors, and lighting up the quaint farm-houses, and still 
 more quaint little churches on the river bank. Each 
 church was topped with its tiny cross of glittering gold. 
 To Mason, the scene was novel in the extreme. The 
 villages were few and scattered ; but the ground was cul- 
 tivated, and there was more appearance of wealth than he 
 had expected to find. He showed his surprise to his com- 
 panion, who was much interested in his remarks. 
 
 " I have seen several of your countrymen, Captain
 
 A PRISONER. 95 
 
 Mason," said Harcourt, " and nice enough fellows they 
 were, wanting somewhat, if you will let me speak plainly, 
 in what we call knowledge of the world ; but what sur- 
 prised me most was their utter absence of ideas regarding 
 the scenery and characteristics of their own country. Not 
 one seemed to care, whether there were mountains or 
 rivers, woods or plains." 
 
 " Do you know much more about the characteristics of 
 Great Britain ? " queried his companion. 
 
 " Of course we do," said Harcourt ; " no fellow has a 
 vacation but he takes a run somewhere to the lakes, up 
 into Scotland, salmon-fishing, grouse-shooting, or some- 
 thing of that sort." 
 
 " That is all very well," said Edward, " but you do not 
 remember that we have no separate class in rank and for- 
 tune as you have. Not that there are not rich men, com- 
 paratively I mean, here as well as with you ; but the bulk 
 of our people are hard-working men, who concentrate all 
 their energies in the effort to support their families, and 
 lay by something for a future." 
 
 " That is true, I did not think of that ; but even that 
 does not account entirely for what I have said. Your pro- 
 fessional men have holidays, do they not ? By the bye, 
 you are not a soldier, I mean one by choice and profes- 
 sion as I am, are you ? " 
 
 " No, I am a lawyer ; but what of that ? " asked Ed- 
 ward. 
 
 " Nothing ; only I thought I missed the shop, as we 
 say. Now you are an intelligent, well educated man, 
 much more so than I am has it ever occurred to you to
 
 96 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 take a trip to Niagara, to see the wide prairies, the mighty 
 Mississippi of your native land ? " 
 
 " Listen to me, Captain Harcourt." 
 
 " Bother the Captain, call me Harcourt, ' for short,' as 
 we used to say at Eton." 
 
 "Well," said Mason, with a laugh, " Harcourt, if you 
 had been born in a half-civilized land, for putting my 
 American pride in my pocket, and judging only by what 
 I have read, we are but half-civilized if from your ear- 
 liest childhood, big rivers and rough granite hills, giant 
 trees, and almost primeval forests had met your gaze on 
 every side if the largest city in which you had ever been, 
 was as a village, when compared with a European capital 
 if every book you read, spoke only to you of minsters 
 sacred with the dust of ages of castles around which 
 hover legend and story of knight and minstrel and lady 
 fair, I say if all this had been brought before your mind's 
 eye, for which would you have longed ? what would you 
 have sought to see and study ? " 
 
 " 'Pon my word, Mason, you put the question in a very 
 novel light. When we are tired of cutting each others' 
 throats about nothing, you shall pay me a visit in Wilt- 
 shire, and I will show you 
 
 ' Minsters dim and castles strong and high,' 
 
 as the old song says." 
 
 " Yes," said Mason, half ironically, " and be sneered 
 at as the green Yankee." The other laid his hand on his 
 shoulder and said very quietly : " Cads, my boy, do that, 
 not men like you and me. See here, Mason, your govern- 
 ment has been enlisting a lot of our deserters. We have
 
 A PRISONER. 97 
 
 taken sixteen or more and Sir George swears he will shoot 
 them. Your ' Mr. Madison ' has clapped some thirty of 
 our fellows in limbo, as hostages, and we intend to do the 
 same. Now I don't wish to see you one of them." 
 
 " I am much obliged to you," broke in the other, " it is 
 a wish in which I cordially join." 
 
 Harcourt laid back in the boat, and laughed merrily. 
 " Well," he continued, after his laughter had subsided, " I 
 hope to keep you quiet in Quebec and pull you through if 
 I can. I gave my word, that you would not try and es- 
 cape, eh ! " 
 
 " Depend upon it," replied Mason, " whatever may be 
 my fate, I shall meet it like a man." 
 
 " That I knew as soon as my eyes rested upon you," 
 said the other. " Here we are at William Henry, or Sor- 
 rel, or whatever they call the place, where we must stop 
 the night. To-morrow we shall reach Quebec ; now for 
 something to eat, and " 
 
 " But, Captain Harcourt, may not your kindness to me, 
 a stranger, get you into trouble at head- quarters." 
 
 " Not a bit of it," said the other. " In the first place, 
 I am doing nothing but what I am authorized to do, and 
 in the second place, I have an old uncle who owns four 
 seats in the Commons, and I am heir to the title, you 
 know. It is wonderful how much weight four votes carry 
 with the old gentleman at the ' Horse Guards,' where they 
 are thrown with the ' ins,' and not with the ' outs.' You 
 understand ? No ? Oh ! charming simplicity, thy name 
 is Yankee." 
 
 7
 
 CHAPTER IX. 
 
 MRS. QUINCEY. 
 
 " From the chafed tiger rend the prey, 
 Rush on the lion when at bay, 
 Bar the fell dragon's blighted way, 
 But shun that lovely snare." 
 
 SCOTT. 
 
 LONG and weary day's travel brought the 
 party in the dusk of the evening to Quebec. 
 Edward gazed with wonder at the quaint little 
 ml city, with its Citadel and fortifications, perched 
 upon an almost inaccessible hill. Its walls and arch- 
 ways, its frowning bastions and grim cannon, beside which 
 paced the plaided Scott, all produced a picture so very dif- 
 ferent from any other American town. His companion 
 pointed out to him the Heights of Abraham, and he could 
 see the faint outline of the path by which " Wolfe " climbed 
 to glory and death. The river was crowded with shipping, 
 and the tall masts of an English seventy-four-gun ship, 
 flying the flag of a rear admiral, lay " sleeping on her 
 shadow " a fit emblem of the mighty nation with whom 
 we were then making unnecessary war. As Edward looked 
 wonderingly at what was to him a novel sight, a bright 
 flame burst out of her side, and the " Union Jack " came 
 fluttering down just as the most delicious band he had 
 ever heard began playing the national hymn. Harcourt 
 
 signalled the voyagers to stop paddling, and the boat 
 (98)
 
 MRS. QUINCEY. 99 
 
 floated gently down with the tide, as the air caught up and 
 re-echoed from the walled city, seemed to float away, and 
 lose itself on the broad unruffled surface of the river. The 
 gates were shut and the guard set before they had landed, 
 so that Harcourt proposed spending the night at an inn, in 
 what was called the new town. After giving some orders 
 for supper he left Edward, and went to deliver in person 
 certain despatches with which he had been charged. Ed- 
 ward was almost bewildered at the novelty of the scene. 
 Could he be in America ? Had he not been transported 
 by enchantment to some old medieval city in France ? It 
 needed but the white-coated soldiers of the Louis, to com- 
 plete the illusion. On every side something new and 
 strange met his eye. The language was the patois, so 
 difficult to understand, even by good French scholars. The 
 dresses of both women and men were so odd, and their stolid 
 indifferent countenances, so unlike the sharp business 
 faces he was accustomed to see among his own countrymen. 
 His American uniform exposed him to many remarks, but 
 to no direct insult ; but still it was with much pleasure that 
 he saw Harcourt return. A very well cooked supper, and 
 a bottle of most delicious claret, a wine Edward had never 
 before tasted, restored his senses and brought him back 
 from dream-land. 
 
 " There," said Harcourt, throwing down his napkin, 
 and idly leaning back in his chair which he had drawn 
 close to the bright wood fire which burned on the hearth, 
 " there are worse things in life than such a supper, and 
 such wine as that ; besides, Mason, my boy, you are in 
 luck to-night. Sir George was in high good-humor at the 
 news I brought him, and well he may be, as the campaign
 
 IOO SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 is over for the year so I put in a word for you. I was 
 told to talk about it some other time when I could remem- 
 ber it. It will be a devilish long time before I do, I can 
 tell you." 
 
 " How can I thank you, Harcourt, for you kindness, and 
 to me a stranger ! " 
 
 " By never saying a word about it. Now listen ! There 
 is to be a little party at the house of an acquaintance of 
 mine to-night so now, if you will go with me, I will intro- 
 duce you to some nice fellows, and the handsomest woman 
 your eyes ever looked on." He blushed slightly as he spoke. 
 
 Edward glanced down at his soiled and well worn uni- 
 form. 
 
 Harcourt replied at once to the glance. " Oh ! I have 
 provided for all that, you shall go in ' Mufti.' I told my 
 servant to bring down a lot of my things. They will not 
 fit you very well. I doubt if Stultz would recognize his 
 coat ; but we will pin you up as the women say." 
 
 Harcourt's man, a clever London servant, soon made 
 Edward presentable, and he looked as he entered the sit- 
 ting-room, what he was, a fine, handsome, gentlemanly 
 fellow. Harcourt walked round him with great gravity, 
 holding a candle in his hand. 
 
 " Ton my word, I did ' ce cher Stultz' great injustice, 
 that coat would not do dishonor to the great Brummell 
 himself. By the bye, he patronized me when I was last in 
 London. There is your coffee, drink it, and we will go." 
 As they reached the door he turned, and laying his hand 
 on Edward's shoulder, said, 
 
 " Mason, keep your temper. Most of the men you will 
 meet are nice enough, but there are a rum lot mixed in,
 
 MRS. QUINCEY. IOI 
 
 and you Yankees have the reputation of being strangely 
 thin-skinned." 
 
 " Does the warning apply to women as well as men ? " 
 asked Mason with a smile. 
 
 " As for that," said the other, again reddening, " you 
 must take your chance like the rest, Lucy Quincey will 
 show you no quarter, I promise you." 
 
 The little gathering of which Harcourt had spoken, 
 proved to be quite a large assemblage. There were but 
 few women present, and most of the men were officers 
 connected with the garrison. The host, Captain Quincey, 
 to whom Edward was presented, and who was profuse in 
 his expressions of hospitality, was a small dark-eyed man, 
 about thirty-five years old, very handsome, with features of 
 a strongly Jewish type, with something sinister in his ex- 
 pression a fact quickly noticed by Edward. Captain 
 Quincey was in uniform, which was rather unusual, as most 
 of the officers were in civilian's dress, but he excused his 
 costume, under the plea that he had but that moment left 
 the office, to which his duties as " Post Adjutant " con- 
 fined him. He asked Mason some questions relative to 
 the time and place of his capture, trusted his stay in Que- 
 bec would be short, said some more civil nothings, and 
 passed on. The two men had stood but a moment to- 
 gether when Harcourt's arm was touched, and as he turned 
 with a start, a low soft voice said : 
 
 " Captain Harcourt has returned safely from his perils 
 by land and water Quebec has been a desert since his 
 departure." There was a certain mocking tone used by 
 the lady, which grated on Mason's ear, and he glanced at 
 his friend. Nothing could exceed the languid, finished air
 
 IO2 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 and manner which Harcourt suddenly assumed. Touch- 
 ing the finger tips of the hand the lady extended to him, 
 he bowed most deeply as he replied : 
 
 " Permit me to present my friend, Captain Mason of 
 the American army, Mrs. Quincey." With a charm of 
 manner in marked contrast to that which but the moment 
 before Mrs. Quincey had used to Harcourt, she extended 
 her hand ; there was nothing in the few words she used, 
 but Edward felt as if a subtile spell had passed over him. 
 Taking advantage of the conversation between the two, 
 Edward took a long, careful look at the lady, and certainly 
 his eye had never rested on a more lovely object. Tall, 
 above the common height, Mrs. Quincey's form was most 
 exquisitely rounded. The fashion of the day caused the 
 neck and arms to be exposed, and hers were white and 
 dimpled. Her hair, which grew down low on her forehead, 
 was wavy, and of a rich golden brown ; her eyes were 
 hazel, large and languishing, and as she turned them on 
 the young man, he felt there was a power in woman he had 
 never known before. 
 
 Mrs. Quincey was about twenty-six years old, and her 
 whole bearing spoke the woman of the world, and of a 
 world to which Edward was an absolute stranger. The 
 very costume, the rich heavy silk, the beautiful lace, the 
 profusion of ornament and jewelry, too much he thought 
 for a mere reception, all denoted something entirely differ- 
 ent from the provincial life in which he had heretofore 
 moved. The very way in which she received him, the 
 quickness with which the shyness of a stranger was brush- 
 ed away, and he was made to feel not only at ease, but 
 absolutely like an old acquaintance, excited at once his
 
 MRS. QUINCE Y. 1 03 
 
 wonder and admiration. There was not a word in the 
 short conversation which amounted to any thing more than 
 the merest commonplace, not a syllable that every one in 
 the room might not have heard, and yet his voice sank to 
 a whisper, and he unconsciously drew his chair a trifle 
 closer as if to make the lady more particularly his own. 
 Edward felt Harcourt was watching him, and he thought 
 he saw a slightly ironical smile curl his lip. Turning his 
 eyes on Mrs. Quincey, he saw she had also observed the 
 smile, for she bit her lip with evident vexation. Card 
 tables had been set out and most of the guests were ab- 
 sorbed in some game of chance. To the offer of a seat 
 made by his hosl,-Edwar;d frankly confessed, he had never 
 played a game in his.Jife, -nor did he know one card from 
 another. 
 
 " Why, Mr. Mason," said Mrs. Quincey, " in what seclu- 
 sion have you been brought up ? " 
 
 " Deeper, Madam, I assure you, than in the backwoods 
 of Kentucky in that of a New England town." 
 
 " And do they never play games of chance, hazard for 
 example ? " asked the lady with evident unbelief. 
 
 " Certainly, in the cities, among men only never in the 
 presence of ladies. I doubt, Mrs. Quincey, if there are 
 five families in New England to-day, the men of which 
 would be willing openly to sit down and play for money 
 as these gentlemen are now doing." 
 
 "Oh, Captain Mason, let me advise you, urge you, 
 never, never touch a card." 
 
 Edward was startled ; there was a depth of feeling, 
 a passion in the tone of her voice he had not looked 
 for.
 
 IO4 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 At this moment Mr. Quincey called out to his wife, 
 without turning round in his chair, 
 
 " Sorry to disturb you, Lucy, but don't you think a lit- 
 tle music would cheer us up ? " 
 
 His wife did not answer a word, but smiling an apology 
 to Edward, she rose and took her seat at the piano. Her 
 manner certainly did not indicate that the labor was one 
 of love for her husband. 
 
 She was immediately surrounded by several young men, 
 and at times the music was drowned in the sound of merry 
 laughter which came from the party. 
 
 Edward joined Harcourt in a different part of the 
 room, who, taking him by the arm, said, 
 
 " Mason, I want you to know , flag Captain of the 
 
 , lying off here ; we passed her this evening. He has 
 
 a number of your countrymen on board, taken from mer- 
 chant vessels. He promises to take you to Halifax, and 
 as he will in all probability be several months at sea be- 
 fore the rear admiral touches at Halifax, this infernal 
 trouble about prisoners may be over between us." 
 
 The officer to whom he was thus abruptly introduced 
 shook him warmly by the hand. 
 
 " Any friend of Harcourt's is my friend at once. There 
 is no necessity of your coming on board until we sail, 
 which will not be until the day after to-morrow at the ear- 
 liest. I will make you as comfortable as I can send a 
 boat and a file of marines for you look better, you know 
 shall not put you in irons, you know." 
 
 Mason laughed as he returned the warm greeting of 
 the bluff, honest sailor. 
 
 " Now, Mason, if you have had enough of this, shall
 
 MRS. QUINCEY, 1 05 
 
 we leave ? " asked Harcourt. " Will you come with us, 
 Captain ? Will give you a cigar and a glass of brandy- 
 and-water." 
 
 " Not to-night," replied the other ; " I have not paid 
 for my footing," he added with a constrained laugh, point- 
 ing to the card table. "The truth is, Charley, I must have 
 one smile, even if I have to pay for it hereafter." 
 
 Harcourt said nothing but drew Mason away. He 
 could hear him mutter below his breath, " Poor Lucy, poor 
 child ! " 
 
 The next day 'Harcourt insisted that his friend should 
 join him in his quarters. Agre'e'able to his own wish he 
 kept quietly in the -house:-'-- 
 
 A file of English papers giving all the news which then 
 convulsed Europe the story of the battle after battle 
 which tore down Napoleon's power the mighty uprising 
 of the nations, most of the accounts of which had only 
 come to Edward in broken fragments afforded him en- 
 trancing occupation. He saw but little of Harcourt, whose 
 duties on the staff kept him occupied all day, and who 
 seemed lured by some irresistible impulse to the Quinceys 
 in the evening. He asked Edward, indeed, to accompany 
 him, but seemed relieved when he declined. 
 
 It was on the morning of the third day, as Edward sat 
 by the window watching the moving throng in the princi- 
 pal street of the town, that Harcourt entered. For a mo- 
 ment or so he said nothing, and his air was gloomy and 
 cast down, and when at length he did speak, it was with 
 a hesitancy totally at variance with his usually calm, pol- 
 ished manner. 
 
 Edward knew at once that something had happened,
 
 IO6 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 and jumped at the conclusion that the hour of parting had 
 come. 
 
 " So the time is up," he said, rising from his seat and 
 extending his hand, " and all that remains for me to do is 
 to thank my more than kind friends in the warmest man- 
 ner." 
 
 Harcourt took his hand and held it for more than a 
 minute. His face was very sad, and a tear actually gath- 
 ered on his eyelid. 
 
 " D d disagreeable, but I must do it, old fellow. You 
 see, after all, I am ordered to shut you up with the others, 
 in close confinement the hostages, I mean." 
 
 Edward was brave, more than usually so, but he felt 
 his heart stop beating for the moment as the words fell on 
 his ear. He manned himself to meet his fate, and, as he 
 drew himself proudly up, said : 
 
 " I trust I have not been the means of bringing any 
 embarrassment upon you, Captain Harcourt." 
 
 " Nonsense," said the other ; " somebody got hold of 
 Sir George before I got there this morning, and like all 
 weak men, he is obstinate. In fact, when he takes the bit 
 in his teeth, the devil can't hold him. One hour more and 
 
 I should have had you safe on board the . Now it is 
 
 too late." 
 
 Edward stepped to the window and looked up at the 
 bright November sun which streamed down on the busy 
 street and the gay happy world. He thought of the little 
 far-away New England village, of Sibyl's soft, gentle, lov- 
 ing eyes, of the affectionate old clergyman. It was hard, 
 hard to meet death, when safety had been so near. 
 
 " Come," said Harcourt, laying his hand heavily on
 
 MRS. QUINCEY. 1 07 
 
 Edward's shoulder. " You are a gentleman by birth and 
 breeding, if ever there was one. Meet it as becomes your 
 blood." 
 
 He turned as he spoke, and without looking back led 
 the way to the street. At the door stood a corporal and a 
 'file of soldiers. Motioning to the non-commissioned offi- 
 cer to fall back, Harcourt took Mason's arm, and they 
 walked towards the Citadel. For several minutes neither 
 spoke, until at length the young Englishman broke the 
 silence : 
 
 " I will send you in every thing to make you comforta- 
 ble. Write to your friends, and I will see that the letters 
 are passed through the lines. By Jove ! it makes me shud- 
 der ; and yet, as a man, Edward, I do not think England 
 is in the wrong." 
 
 " You can hardly expect me to discuss this problem in 
 moral ethics with a perfectly unbiassed mind, I presume," 
 said Edward, with a sickly smile. 
 
 " I spoke my thoughts unconsciously," said the young 
 Englishman. " I beg your pardon." 
 
 They had by this time reached the centre of the for- 
 tress, and saw before them the officer of the guard and 
 many of the soldiers standing carelessly around. The cor- 
 poral was passed by the young men, and raising his 
 hand to his breast in salute, handed the officer a paper. 
 When he had read it, the young soldier stepped forward, 
 and with a strong Scotch accent, said : 
 
 " Capt. Mason, 8jth Reg. U. S. Army." 
 
 "Your servant, sir," said Mason, drawing himself 
 proudly up to his full height. 
 
 " One moment," exclaimed Harcourt, haughtily waving
 
 IO8 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 his hand ; the subaltern fell back. " I would have saved 
 you this, God knows ; but, Mason, you carry into that dun- 
 geon a happier heart than Charles Harcourt's. God bless 
 you ! Good-bye ! " 
 
 He wrung his hand, and Mason was alone among 
 strangers. 
 
 The young Highlander treated him with great polite- 
 ness, and after a few preliminary formalities had been 
 gone through with, asked him to follow him. He led the 
 way to one of the casemates of the fortress, at the door of 
 which stood two sentinels. The room into which he was 
 shown was a long vaulted apartment, the embrasures be- 
 ing heavily barred, making a prison of it in reality. A 
 stove was burning in the centre of the room, and cots and 
 mattresses were strewn about. In the casemate were as- 
 sembled about thirty of Mason's brother officers, naval and 
 military. Every eye was turned on him as he entered, but 
 not a word was spoken. 
 
 The heavy door swung back with a shock which echoed 
 through the vaulted room, and a clear, loud voice said : 
 
 "Our number is complete. There remains nothing 
 now but the priest and the firing party. God have mercy 
 on our souls."
 
 CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE APPEAL. 
 
 Spare him, he our love hath shared ! 
 Spare him, as thou wouldst be spared I 
 
 LONGFELLOW. 
 
 HE state of Dr. Spencer's health caused great 
 uneasiness to his numerous friends, and no 
 one of them was more anxious than Deacon 
 Knapp. The Deacon hid under the cloak of 
 cynicism, a kind and loving nature. He had been brought 
 up from infancy in the old church under the ministrations 
 of the Doctor and his father before him, and above all he 
 looked upon Dr. Spencer as the representative of sound 
 religious and political doctrines. Not a day passed but 
 the Deacon made his appearance at the parsonage, and 
 many an hour was spent in cheering his old friend. They 
 both felt the pressure of the political events, and the 
 disasters which pressed so heavily on the people, but there 
 was one consolation of which the Deacon availed himself, 
 and that was, the pleasure of grumbling. His religion 
 forbade him to swear, but did not require him to soften his 
 language in other respects, and deep and enduring was the 
 pit to which he consigned Mr. Madison and each one of 
 his advisers. As Deacon Knapp approached the parson- 
 age, this morning, he was greeted hy Mr. Hamilton. This 
 (109)
 
 IIO SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 gentleman had been long absent from D , nor had his 
 
 recent arrival become known. After the usual salutations 
 Mr. Hamilton's first inquiry was about Dr. Spencer's 
 health. 
 
 " Well now you see," said the older man, " the Parson 
 I greatly fear has almost ' fit the fight.' He's finished 
 his course. I wish," he added bitterly, " I could say with 
 joy. But what can you expect from a man to whom 
 Edwards was a light in the gospel, and Hamilton in poli- 
 tics, now that them Unitarians is prospering at hum, and 
 the dernmycrats rules it in Washington." 
 
 " I need not ask," said Mr. Hamilton, " if he is prepared 
 to die ; for if singleness of heart, purity of life, and devo 
 tion to God and man, count for any thing, James Spencer's 
 spirit will be borne aloft on angels' wings." 
 
 " Jist so ; you say nothing but the truth, Mr. Hamilton, 
 yet it's kinder hard if a poor sinful man may be permitted 
 to question the great Ruler of events (he raised his hat 
 reverently as he spoke), to see this light quenched in the 
 distress of nations and the overturning of all conservative 
 principles." 
 
 " Oh ! let us take a more cheerful view of affairs, my 
 old friend," said the other. " Our country is too young to 
 be ruined yet. She has a glorious future before her." 
 
 " That's as may be," muttered the Deacon ; " but I am 
 getting too old to look forward much longer. I come 
 home at night, and thar sits Sally, the light of my eyes, a- 
 crying over the baby, because Sam's away over the lakes. 
 I come down here, and here's Sibyl, who's got more char- 
 acter than any woman I ever knew, mournful and dis- 
 tressed. I tell you, Mr. Hamilton, it's the same where-
 
 THE APPEAL. I 1 1 
 
 ever you may go. There's not a fireside that isn't desolate 
 nor a churchyard that's not growing green and what 
 for ? I ask myself that question twenty times a day, in 
 the long watches of the night, and at the cock crowing ; 
 what for ? " 
 
 " They are falling as their fathers fell : let us hope 
 they have fought as their fathers fought. My old friend, it 
 is our country which demands this sacrifice. Foolishly, 
 wrongly I admit ; but still it is their country." 
 
 " God forbid ! " said the Deacon pausing in his walk, 
 for they had now reached the steps of the Parsonage, 
 " God forbid ! that I should refuse any of mine, or all of 
 mine, from the baby in the cradle to the two young men, 
 who are somewhere in the front, if it was for my country ; 
 but it ain't. I tell you, Mr. Hamilton, you, who have held 
 Senates enthralled, that if you were to speak until the crack 
 of doom, you would not alter the fact that this war is a 
 sectional war, and the longer it goes on the wider will 
 be the breach between the North and South. You can't 
 make our people believe ag'in common sense." 
 
 " But, my dear fellow," said Mr. Hamilton, " you have as 
 you yourself say, more at stake ; and are ready to make 
 greater sacrifices than your less fortunate neighbors. 
 Why then cherish these views, why, even in conversation 
 with me, allow them to take possession of your mind ? 
 Division, sectional strife ! Accursed be he who advises it, 
 or even the mind that gives it birth." 
 
 " Amen ! " uttered the Deacon. " Hamilton, in this 
 house, lying on a bed of sickness, may be of death, is the 
 oldest friend I have in the world. As you yourself have 
 said, the purest spirit, the most self-forgetful, the one the
 
 112 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 most deeply imbued with the teachings of the great men 
 who have gone before us." 
 
 In the energy of his feelings, the Deacon had dropped 
 the accent and phraseology of the common New Englander, 
 and spoke with dignity and even beauty. 
 
 " To his hand I verily believe has been committed that 
 portion of the Israel of God who are called upon to sojourn 
 here in this tabernacle of the flesh. Yet even James 
 Spencer himself, the meek, the gentle, the lowly, holds 
 that resistance to tyranny is obedience to God." 
 
 "This must not be, Knapp. My God! have our in- 
 stitutions come to this ? That such as you, a rich man and 
 an Elder as you yourself would express it in the Church 
 on earth, can hold even for an instant the monstrous 
 thought of a separation or a division of the Union. Do 
 not answer me, make no reply, which even to a friend like 
 me can place you on the record. At this moment, when 
 the very Houses of Assembly are passing resolutions, 
 incendiary in their nature ; when but a breath can fan the 
 flame of civil war, every honest heart, every true man, must 
 labor not to rend but to knit together in one indissoluble 
 bond, the common children of one common mother." 
 
 " Have I not said I'd do it with my all, were it to 
 the last drop of my heart's blood ? But where's the 
 use ? We can give our sons to fall like brave men on 
 the field of battle ; we can give our substance wrung 
 from these granite hills by days of toil and pinching 
 economy ; we can see all taken and all lost, and yet, 
 thank God ! he permits us to make the sacrifice, if it 
 but feebly benefit our fathers' land. But, Mr. Hamilton, 
 we will not see these children, blood of our blood, bone of
 
 THE APPEAL. 113 
 
 our bone, led like bullocks to the shambles, to be shot 
 down, not in fair open battle, but as just retaliation for 
 the lives of traitors, deserters and murderers. The pro- 
 tecting arm of our government shall not be thrown over 
 every foreign adventurer. These sons of ours are children 
 of the promise, their birthright is the citizenship which, 
 by seven long years of bloody war, we won for them. I 
 say, and I know I speak the feelings of every New Eng- 
 land father, you shall not take the children's bread, and 
 cast it to the dogs." 
 
 They had been so earnest in their conversation that 
 they had not heard the approach of Mrs. Spencer, who now 
 stood on the steps but a few feet above them. Care and 
 anxiety had altered the poor old lady, but still she strove 
 to greet Mr. Hamilton with her accustomed manner. 
 
 " Do come in," she said. " The Doctor heard your voices 
 and he is dying with impatience to learn if there is any 
 news. He is no better to-day," she added mournfully ; " and 
 what is to become of Sibyl and me when he is gone ? 
 Where shall we look ? to whom shall we turn ? " 
 
 " Well ma'am," said the Deacon, " there's but few on us 
 but feels kindly, if it were but to a dog, whose head James 
 Spencer had patted, let alone to a woman who has been 
 his companion for thirty years. There will be some differ- 
 ence in your circumstances, but the "seed of the righteous 
 will not be forsaken, nor will his children have to beg their 
 bread." As they were speaking, they entered the house, 
 and naturally turned into the library which seemed 
 sacred to the kind old Doctor. The books were on the 
 table, just as he had last read them ; the pen lay with the 
 ink dry on it, as it had fallen from his weakening fingers
 
 I 14 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 all was too sacred even for the neatness of a New England 
 housekeeper to disturb. 
 
 " I am ashamed," muttered Mrs. Spencer, " to let any 
 one see this room, all so littered up. But James never did 
 like to have his things moved, and now I cannot look at 
 them, without crying." 
 
 The Deacon walked to the window, his features worked, 
 and the big tears trickled one by one down his rugged 
 cheeks. His more accomplished but not less sympathiz- 
 ing companion took the poor old woman's hand, and said, 
 in the sweet rich voice to which no man had ever listened 
 unmoved, 
 
 " My dear madam, Deacon Knapp only spoke the com- 
 mon feeling of the entire community. Should it be God's 
 will to remove the friend of a lifetime, every heart will be 
 open to cherish, and to welcome his widow and child." 
 
 " It was not so much of myself I was thinking," said 
 the still weeping woman, " but of Sibyl. The load she 
 is carrying is a terrible one for one so frail. Expecting 
 every moment to hear that the man she loves, ah, me ! has 
 been shot like a dog, and now her father, her playmate, 
 her teacher I never could understand him as she did. 
 Sometimes, God forgive me ! I was jealous of the love the 
 two bore one another, and now he is dying, and no " 
 
 The wretched woman covered her face with her apron, 
 and rocked herself to and fro in speechless agony. There 
 was a hard expression on the Deacon's face as he turned 
 from the window, and Mr. Hamilton avoided his eye. He 
 pointed with his hand to the weeping woman. 
 
 " I can't frame amendments to the Constitution, Mr. 
 Hamilton, nor can I argue a point of Constitutional law,
 
 THE APPEAL. 115 
 
 but I have a heart which tells me when another's wounded 
 and bleeding unto death, and yet you say, that even unto 
 this we must submit ? " 
 
 There was something so indescribably bitter, and even 
 malignant, in the man's tone, usually so calm and self- 
 contained, that Hamilton almost shuddered. 
 
 " Come," said Mrs. Spencer, rousing herself by a 
 strong effort. " Come, he is waiting for you. You will be 
 careful, Deacon, you will not worry nor excite him, will 
 you ? " 
 
 The Deacon could only nod, and as they turned to the 
 door they were met by Sibyl, looking wan and white as 
 Parian marble. 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton, will you speak with me a moment ? " 
 
 The girl's voice quivered, and her fingers twined them- 
 selves convulsively one with the other. 
 
 " Certainly, my dear young lady," he said, and his eyes 
 followed lovingly the graceful figure which walked towards 
 the window. When they were alone, Sibyl turned and, 
 coming close to him, placed her hand on his arm and said, 
 in a broken voice 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton, save him, save the man who was pre- 
 ferred to you." 
 
 " My child," said Hamilton, " it needs no appeal from 
 you to induce me to use every faculty for that object. If 
 I did not cherish for you, even now, the tenderest love 
 nay, do not start ; it is a pure love, Sibyl, so pure that it 
 is hopeless, I would, were it in my power, save Edward 
 Mason, as one of the brightest, noblest specimens of early 
 manhood. But what can I do? I am utterly, absolutely 
 powerless."
 
 Il6 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " It cannot be," she answered, " that the great, the 
 powerful Arthur Hamilton, the leader, the controller of his, 
 State, the admired, the loved of his countrymen, says he 
 is powerless ; and says this to the woman he pretends to 
 love?" 
 
 " Pretends to love ! Oh, Sibyl ! " 
 
 " Then save him, save him from death, and I will be 
 your slave. Oh, I will worship you, I will look upon you 
 as a god," and she sank weak and trembling into a chair. 
 
 " My child, I have absolutely no influence over the cow- 
 ardly, treacherous man who now fills the office of our Chief 
 Magistrate. I have been to Washington, I have bent my- 
 self to ask, that as the reward of a life's service to my coun- 
 try, I might be allowed to act in the affair. I was refused. 
 Refused, did I say? I was ignominiously spurned and 
 reviled. I submitted, and again and again renewed the 
 request as a favor. This have I already done for your 
 lover. No, let me speak the truth, I would have done the 
 same for the meanest laborer among my countrymen." 
 
 The frightful gasp which Sibyl gave, as she heard Mr. 
 Hamilton, the convulsive manner in which she pressed her 
 hand on her heart, made him tremble, and he sprang to 
 the door to summon aid. 
 
 " Stop !" she gasped rather than spoke. " My father 
 knows nothing of Edward's fate as yet. In mercy spare 
 him." 
 
 " My dear, dear Sibyl," said Mr. Hamilton, " think of 
 your friends, your parents, and be calm." 
 
 " Calm : am I not calm ? See," and she extended "her 
 hand. " My pulse does not beat faster than yours. My 
 eyes have not shed a tear, they feel as if they were hot,
 
 THE APPEAL. 117 
 
 burning coals. Since we were little toddling things, and 
 played together in this room, there has not been a fibre of 
 my being which has not been bound up and woven into 
 his. I stand by my father's bedside and try to smile. 
 O God ! Thy hand is heavy on Thy hand-maiden. Father 
 and he both gone. Both gone, and I shall be alone." 
 
 The great strong man trembled as he held the girl's 
 hand. He knew that unless the British Government, for 
 humanity's sake, waived the right given them by the law of 
 man and of nations, to punish deserters from their armies, 
 taken with arms in their hands, in open fight and in league 
 with their enemies, there was for Edward Mason and his 
 wretched companions no hope. One might as well hope 
 to still the waves of the Atlantic with a word as to speak 
 of humanity or mercy to Mr. Madison or his advisers. 
 
 The administration party were playing for the foreign 
 vote, a vote growing as fast as the fraudulent naturalization 
 papers could be issued. To talk to such men of humanity 
 and mercy, of the sufferings of women and children, and 
 the agony of a young girl, was hopeless. The man laughed 
 in the bitterness of his spirit. 
 
 As the faint mocking sounds struck Sibyl's ear, she 
 sprang to her feet, a faint tinge of color came back to her 
 cheek. She was about to speak when he motioned to her 
 to be silent. 
 
 " Judge not too hastily. In the very bitterness of my 
 soul, a sound broke from me of derision at my own help- 
 lessness, of mockery at the men whom a free people have 
 placed in authority over them. As I have said, I am pow- 
 erless. There is but one refuge, Sibyl, and that is in 
 prayer to the God of Hosts."
 
 Il8 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 Sibyl had clung almost unconsciously to hope, founded 
 on Mr. Hamilton's power and influence. All her life she 
 had seen every thing yield to the will and determination of 
 her father's friend. Now in her despair, cut off from the 
 slightest communication with her lover in hourly expec- 
 tation that the hideous retaliatory policy of both nations 
 would be enforced she had turned for assistance and 
 consolation, and she had turned in vain. 
 
 The dying condition of the old minister made every 
 one anxious to conceal from him any thing which might 
 embitter his few last hours, and with a self-devotion rare 
 even in a woman, Sibyl had shut the secret of her grief in 
 the recesses of her heart. As she had told Mr. Hamilton 
 bhe had even tried to smile, and as she now stood looking 
 at him ghastly pale, and struggling to control her agony, 
 the kind-hearted man absolutely choked with emotion. 
 
 " Forgive me, Mr. Hamilton, if I have said anything to 
 wound you. I know, I feel the appeal to you is vain. I 
 am sure you would help me if you could ; but oh ! the 
 heart clings to such frail supports. I thought you might 
 possibly do something." 
 
 " Sibyl, I am powerless."
 
 CHAPTER XI. 
 
 A QUIET RUBBER. 
 
 " Pernicious gold ! Though yet no temples rise, 
 No altars to thy name perfume the skies, 
 Yet, is thy full divinity confessed, 
 And thy shrine fixed in every human breast." 
 
 GIFFORD'S TRANSLATION. 
 
 ONG weeks rolled by before Harcourt brought 
 the glad news that Mason's prison doors were 
 open, and that he was once more at liberty on 
 parole. The intelligence had been brought to 
 Sir George Provost that the British Government had de- 
 termined not to execute the deserters taken in arms against 
 their flag, and that a mutual interchange of prisoners had 
 been agreed upon. 
 
 The little property which Edward possessed enabled 
 him to live in a better manner than most of the others, 
 and for the few days he was still to be detained in Quebec, 
 he took a room at the principal hotel. It was here that 
 Captain Quincey had his apartments, and almost the first 
 one to greet him on the evening of his arrival was that of- 
 ficer. Although perfectly courteous, even obsequious in 
 his manners, there was something which m^de the shrewd 
 ("9)
 
 I2O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 young American distrust and dislike his quondam host. 
 Edward was alone ; Harcourt had been called away sud- 
 denly, and was not expected to return until the next day. 
 Solitary, in a strange land, he gladly accepted the invita- 
 tion which Quincey extended to him of passing the evening 
 in his rooms. 
 
 Mrs. Quincey's greeting was warm and cordial. She 
 congratulated him on his release, and on the prospect of 
 again revisiting his home. There was less of coquetry in 
 her air, and more of the sincerity of a friend, than so very 
 short an acquaintance warranted. Notwithstanding all this 
 there was an air of restraint, and it was with relief that the 
 arrival of several officers of the garrison broke up the 
 little party. Among them was a young fresh boy, evidently 
 just released from the restraint of a public school, and 
 making his first venture in the outside world. Cards were 
 introduced, and the majority of the party were soon ab- 
 sorbed in the excitement of high play. Young St. Clair, that 
 was the boy's name, seemed divided between his open 
 admiration of his beautiful hostess and a stripling's anxiety 
 to take part in the game, which his seniors were carrying 
 on before him. Edward saw at once that this latter inten- 
 tion Mrs. Quincey was anxious to prevent. Never was 
 manner more fascinating than that which she exerted to 
 retain St. Clair by her side. Under an influence which he 
 could not resist, the boy became rapidly intoxicated with 
 pleasure. There was another person who viewed the scene 
 with ill-disguised dislike, and that was the lady's husband. 
 He interrupted the conversation at different times, com- 
 plained of the noise which broke into his game, and at 
 length made the demand, in the same tone, which had
 
 A QUIET RUBBER. 121 
 
 struck Edward on his first introduction, that his wife 
 should give them some music. 
 
 Mrs. Quincey rose at once without a word of reply, 
 and moved to the piano. As Edward followed her, and, 
 under the pretence of arranging her music, bent forward 
 so as to see her face, he saw her eyes were full of tears. 
 Intimating a desire he should draw a chair to the instru- 
 ment, she began a conversation in so low a tone, that the 
 air she was playing formed a running accompaniment to 
 her words. 
 
 " Did I understand you to say, Captain Mason, that 
 gambling was unknown in the States ? " 
 
 " By no means, my dear madam," answered Edward, " I 
 only said that so far as my limited observation extended, 
 I had never seen cards introduced in ladies' society." 
 
 " Yet my life is spent in just such scenes as these, with 
 no society but men, whose only pleasures are shuffling a 
 pack of cards, or shaking a dice box." 
 
 There was something inexpressibly sad in the tone in 
 which these words were spoken, and Edward hesitated how 
 he should reply to them. It was but for a moment, how- 
 ever, for shaking her head saucily, she turned the conver- 
 sation on trifling matters with a skill in repartee which 
 taxed Mason's powers to the utmost. There was a charm 
 in the manner which lured Edward on, until he found 
 unconsciously that he had become extremely confidential, 
 and that Mrs. Quincey was well acquainted with Sibyl and 
 his love. 
 
 There is nothing more intensely dangerous to a man, 
 and especially to a young man, than the position in which 
 a handsome woman places him, in becoming his confidante.
 
 122 SIBYL SPENCFR. 
 
 Sympathy is so sweet. " Les absents 'ont toujours tort," as 
 the French proverb has it. Unconsciously our young hero 
 slipped from the confidential into the affectionate, and sad 
 to say, for once Sibyl was forgotten. It was not, however, 
 until raising his eyes to Mrs. Quincey's face, after a speech 
 of uncommon silliness, that he started at the ghastly 
 pallor and expression of intense pain which passed over it. 
 Her eyes were fixed intently on a looking-glass which hung 
 over the instrument at which she was seated, but which was 
 hidden from Edward. He turned his head Harcourt was 
 standing close behind her. Edward made a motion to rise 
 from his seat to greet his friend, but was restrained by the 
 hand of the latter, which was placed kindly on his shoulder. 
 
 " If Mrs. Quincey will forgive my abrupt entrance," 
 Harcourt said in the quiet voice peculiar to him, " I shall be 
 tempted to ask of her, the favor to play for me again that 
 low soft air which certainly must be Spanish if my memory 
 does not deceive me." 
 
 There was nothing in the request which any gentleman 
 might not have made under similar circumstances, but a 
 shudder ran through Mrs. Quincey, and again Edward 
 noticed the ghastly palor of her face. She controlled her- 
 self, however, with an effort, and commenced the air which 
 she had been playing. As she did so, Harcourt shifted 
 his position and stood close to the piano, on the side away 
 from Edward ; as he did so, the music died away, and 
 after a moment's silence, Mrs. Quincey caught up her fan 
 and handkerchief and abruptly left the room. 
 
 Harcourt lounged up to the card table, and stood -rest- 
 ing his arm on the back of Quincey's chair. The play had 
 evidently been very high, and the principal loser had been
 
 A QUIET RUBBER. 123 
 
 the young boy, St. Clair. The hand which Harcourt over- 
 looked decided the game, and it was with an oath that the 
 young man threw down his cards, exclaiming he would play 
 no more. In this he was joined by several of the other 
 officers, who evidently were ill at ease, at some occurrence 
 which to Edward was a mystery. 
 
 St. Clair added up his losses, which amounted to con- 
 siderably more than a hundred pounds, and drawing out 
 his pocket-book, handed the amount to his host, who had 
 been the principal winner. The losses and gains of the 
 others were trifling and soon settled. Captain Quincey kept 
 his seat at the table, and although expressing his regret at 
 the breaking up of the party, made in reality no attempt to 
 detain them longer, and after a few civil words they all 
 left except Harcourt and Edward. The latter was about 
 doing so, when he was detained by a quick, sharp gesture 
 from his friend. Harcourt had placed himself with his 
 back to the fire, and was keeping his eyes intently fixed 
 on Quincey, who was rapidly and nervously shuffling and 
 cutting the various packs of cards on the table before him. 
 Suddenly Quincey turned, and in a tone of the most insult- 
 ing rudeness, asked Edward how " much longer they were to 
 be honored with his presence." 
 
 . " Sir," exclaimed Edward, his cheeks flushing at the 
 provocation. 
 
 " Damned Yankee rebel ! " muttered the other. 
 
 Edward started forward to resent this last speech, when 
 Harcourt seized him by his arm and almost forced him into 
 a seat. Taking one himself near the table. 
 
 " Mason be quiet, your utmost efforts cannot raise that 
 man to the level of your contempt. How much money did
 
 124 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 you win from that boy St. Clair this evening," he said, 
 suddenly addressing himself to Captain Quincey. 
 
 " None of your damned business," muttered the other, 
 glancing on the calm handsome face before him with a 
 black, bitter look. 
 
 " Granted," returned Harcourt, leaning back in his 
 chair and playing with an ivory paper cutter he had taken 
 in his hands. " Place the full amount in an envelope, 
 seal it with your own ring, and give it to Mr. Mason 
 for Mr. St. Clair. Pledge yourself in writing " he 
 paused, and uttered each word with slow and distinct 
 utterance, " never again, for the reason of having been dis- 
 covered cheating at cards, never again to touch a card while 
 in his majesty's service, and I, on my part, will pledge my- 
 self that this affair shall be kept secret." 
 
 " And if I will not," said the miserable wretch, cover- 
 ing his face with his hands, but making no effort to deny 
 the accusation. 
 
 " But you will," continued the other ; " in case you 
 refuse, I will before ten o'clock to-morrow morning lay the 
 entire affair before Sir George. Then you know you will be 
 cashiered." 
 
 " You have no proof ? " 
 
 " My simple word, without an iota of proof, would be 
 sufficient to expel you from Crockford's. No matter " he 
 waved his hand to the other to keep silent. "For your 
 wife's sake, I do not wish to show the proof I have." 
 
 "Yes," said Quincey, taking his hands from his face, 
 which was white, his eyes gleaming with vindictive ven- 
 geance. " Is it my wife or your mistress, who influences 
 you?"
 
 A QUIET RUBBER. 125 
 
 Not a muscle of Harcourt's moved except the hand 
 that held the little ivory toy he was playing with, which 
 fell broken and crushed by his iron grasp to the carpet. 
 His voice was even more than usually low and soft as he 
 continued 
 
 " Your wife's fair name, unfortunately for her, is not in 
 my keeping. This insult shall be answered later." 
 
 Harcourt had drawn himself together as he spoke, and 
 suddenly springing from his chair, he threw the other 
 violently on the floor, and seized two playing cards, which 
 Quincey had concealed on the chair and which accounted 
 for his keeping his seat. Taking a candle in his hand, he 
 held the cards up before Mason's eyes, who saw a number 
 of pin holes corresponding to the numbers marked on their 
 face. 
 
 " A very stale trick. The poor devil," said Harcourt, 
 contemptuously, " does not understand even his disgrace- 
 ful trade!" 
 
 While he was speaking Quincey had raised himself from 
 the floor, and for a moment Mason thought he was about 
 to spring on his accuser. But his heart failed him, and 
 with a deep, bitter groan, he threw himself into a chair 
 and covered his face with his hands. 
 
 " There is ink and paper, I doubt not, in that secre- 
 tary," said Harcourt, who had again seated himself, point- 
 ing to a desk in the room. " Get some and write as I dic- 
 tate. Do not hesitate, it is your only hope." 
 
 Without utterjng a sound the wretched man got the 
 writing materials and Harcourt dictated. 
 
 " I, Joseph Quincey, Capt. in his Majesty's 4oth reg. of
 
 126 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 Infantry, now on the staff, having been discovered cheat- 
 ing at cards, do, in consideration of a promise of silence 
 on the part of Capt the Hon. Charles Harcourt, pledge 
 myself, never, under any circumstances, to touch a card or 
 dice when in the presence of any officer of his Majesty's 
 service, his allies or those of his enemies." 
 
 "JOSEPH QUINCEY. 
 "Dated Nov., 1813." 
 
 " Capt. Mason, will you have the kindness to sign that 
 as a witness ? So that's done. Now for the money." 
 
 * Quincey silently enclosed the bank note he had received 
 that evening, sealed and directed the package, and tossed 
 it on the table before Mason. The look which accom- 
 panied this Edward remembered for years. Every evil 
 passion the human heart can hold was stamped on his 
 face. 
 
 " Now, gentlemen, if you have sufficiently accomplished 
 my humiliation, perhaps you will still allow me to call this 
 room my own." 
 
 " Certainly, certainly," hastily said Harcourt ; " but 
 there remains one thing more. You spoke of my relations 
 to your wife. As a gentleman, I cannot allow such an im- 
 putation to rest unchallenged." 
 
 " Go, go, Mr. Harcourt," said Mrs. Quincey, who had 
 entered the room noiselessly. " There was, I thought, no 
 amount of ignominy which had not been heaped upon me 
 by this man ; but it was reserved for this night to show 
 that there can exist a human being so base as to be will- 
 ing to purchase immunity from personal danger, at the 
 expense of his honor." 
 
 Quincey turned round and half raised his hand, as if to
 
 A QUIET RUBBER. 
 
 strike the woman who spoke. He fell back, however, at 
 the fire which flashed from her eyes. 
 
 " It would not be the first time you have struck me ; 
 but that you will never do again," she said, speaking 
 quickly. " I have been your slave, but the words you have 
 this night uttered have made me a free woman. Mr. 
 Harcoutt, we never meet again ; to the many acts of kind- 
 ness you have done me, add this one more, forget that 
 there exists such a creature as Lucy Quincey." She cov- 
 ered her face with her hands and sobbed .audibly. 
 
 " How pretty ! so touching," said her husband, sneer- 
 ingly leaning back in his chair. " Don't mind me, I am 
 a cheat and a gambler, so, of course, my wife's honor is as 
 nothing to me. Perhaps you would like Mr. Mason and 
 myself to retire." 
 
 " For God's sake hush ! " said Mason ; " remember, at 
 least, you are a man and she is a woman." 
 
 " And as such she is my wife," broke in Quincey, " and 
 by the Eternal, bad as I am, I will keep her pure ! " and 
 his sneering laugh made Mason's blood run cold. 
 
 Harcourt, who had been writing on a slip of paper, now 
 turned, and after showing it to Quincey, said : 
 
 " Mrs. Quincey, I will try and forget every thing, but 
 that there exists in this world a sad, suffering woman. On 
 this paper I have written the address of my London agent. 
 In the life which, in the future, in all probability, will be 
 your lot, there may come a morning when human aid is 
 wanted ; a line sent there will always reach me, and in all 
 circumstances and at all times, you have a devoted friend 
 in Charles Harcourt." He laid the slip of paper as he 
 spoke on the table, took the hand she extended to him,
 
 128 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 raised it respectfully to his lips, bowed slightly to Quincey, 
 and with Mason left the room. 
 
 Mason's room was in a wing of the hotel, a fire was 
 burning on the hearth and by it he lighted a candle. 
 Harcourt had bitten his lips until the blood fell in drops 
 on his shirt front, and he trembled as a man does in an 
 ague. Mason immediately poured out some brandy which 
 Harcourt drank off, then he spoke. 
 
 " As Lucy Quincey said, forget this night, Mason, and 
 be thankful no such shadow is thrown over your life." He 
 leaned back in his chair, shutting his eyes, and for several 
 moments both men kept silence. 
 
 "There is one thing, Harcourt, what am I to do with 
 this money ? It has been committed to me, and what shall 
 I say when I deliver it to Mr. St. Clair? " 
 
 " Oh, I had forgotten," said Harcourt, sitting up in his 
 chair, his old manner coming back to him and speaking in 
 his usual drawling way. " You won't mind just stepping 
 with me to St. Glair's quarters. I can give you a shake 
 down for the night, you know, or you can come back 
 here." 
 
 When Mr. St. Glair's quarters were reached, Mason 
 glanced for the first time at his friend. He was as calm 
 and polished as ever. He briefly related the incident. 
 " I suspected for some little time, that Quincey was not ex- 
 actly square, you know, so I stood sideways by the table 
 and saw him while you and he were playing, change the 
 cards. I pledged my word as to silence ; he is never to 
 play any more, and all that. Good-night. Come Mason, 
 St. Clair is a richer, if not a happier man." 
 
 " Confound it," said the young officer, " I wish you
 
 A QUIET RUBBER. 1 29 
 
 had not done any thing. I would much rather have lost 
 the hundred pounds. How can I ever speak to that pretty 
 woman again ! " 
 
 " Never speak to her again, my dear boy," said Har- 
 court, " it is the only kindness you can do her ; again good- 
 night ! " 
 
 When they were in the street Mason turned to his com- 
 panion anxious to have an explanation ; but the other 
 took him by the arm, and drawing him along, said, " Not 
 one word until we are within four walls." 
 
 When Captain Harcourt's quarters were reached, he 
 motioned Mason to a chair, placed on the table a box of 
 cigars, a decanter of brandy, and some water. For sev- 
 eral minutes he walked slowly up and down the room, 
 then threw himself into a chair, and drawing the cigar box 
 to him, he muttered in a low tone, as he busied himself in 
 selecting one, 
 
 " Look here, Mason, I am not a man of many profes- 
 sions, as you have probably seen, but I am awfully fond 
 of you. I took a fancy to you that night in camp, when 
 you were first brought in, you were so calm and quiet, so 
 full of pluck, you know." 
 
 " You are very good to say so," answered Mason ; "I 
 am sure nobody could have been kinder ; but what has 
 this to do with the event of to-night ? " 
 
 " Much more than you think,' : replied his friend ; " in 
 the first place, I must have some one to talk to ; in the 
 next, I came very near getting you into a scrape." 
 
 " How so ? " asked Mason. 
 
 " Why, you see," continued the other, " that black- 
 guard saw I had found him out. If he could have forced 
 
 9
 
 I3O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 a fight out of you, he thought I might be made to hold my 
 tongue. He is the best shot in the army. I know what 
 you would say. It don't amount to much, but he might 
 have fired just a second before time, and then 
 
 " You said," interrupted Mason, " you wished some 
 one to talk to, what did you mean ? " 
 
 It was full a minute before Harcourt replied. The 
 smoke rolled in regular clouds from his lips, and his 
 features had assumed a cold, hard, stony look, unusual to 
 them ; at length he broke the silence 
 
 " I am nephew and heir presumptive to Lord , as 
 
 you may have heard. The son of his younger and only 
 brother, who was killed some where in the Hill country in 
 India. I was brought up in the Hall, and fitted for Eton 
 by the father of this Lucy Quincey, the incumbent of 
 
 the living at . All my vacations were passed at the 
 
 old house, and I need not enter into that point, it is suffi- 
 cient to say, she and I became madly in love with each 
 other. After I entered ' Christ Church ' I told the old 
 gentleman of my passion, and my intention of marrying 
 Lucy. He heard me all through, calmly, and then said. 
 "The title, if I never marry and have children, will be 
 yours. The estate, with the exception of a few hundreds a 
 year, I can do what I please with, marry Lucy and why go 
 on with the old story ! In three months I was in Spain 
 on Picton's staff, got mentioned in the Gazette, sent home 
 with dispatches, and found Lucy gone married ! " He 
 stopped and poured out a glass of brandy, to which he 
 slowly added the water drop by drop. 
 
 " I have tried this gambling every excitement that 
 men find so sweet. My uncle is an old, broken man, and I
 
 A QUIET RUBBER. 13! 
 
 heir to twenty thousand a year and liberty to spend what 
 I choose, and I would give it all to forget the sob which 
 still rings in my ears of that broken-hearted woman." 
 
 Mason was very much affected. There was nothing 
 which he could either do or say, he could only hold out his 
 hand, which the other wrung warmly. 
 
 " I have known of Quincey's cheating for some time, 
 and as I was responsible in some manner for his introduc- 
 tion, I felt my duty as a man was to stop him. God 
 knows I little thought Lucy would have heard what 
 passed ! " 
 
 " Harcourt, what will become of them ? That man will 
 not stay here after this." 
 
 " Go into the States, probably," answered the other. 
 " You get most of the offscourings of our society. Should 
 you ever meet her, help Lucy for my sake. Now see, old 
 boy, to-morrow or next day you will be exchanged, and we 
 may never meet again. Don't forget her." He held out 
 his hand, Mason saw he wanted to be alone. After a few 
 words he stepped to the door. " Say, Mason, old fellow, 
 do you ever pray ? " 
 
 Astonished at such a question, Edward hesitated a 
 moment and then said. 
 
 " I am not a professor, as our people call it, Harcourt, 
 of religion, but I try and remember my duty to God." 
 
 " Then say a short one for a poor, frail, broken-hearted 
 woman," as he said this Harcourt covered his face with 
 his hands and dropped his head on the table. Mason 
 could see the convulsive sobs which shook his powerful 
 frame. Edward softly closed the door and left him alone 
 with his sorrow.
 
 CHAPTER XII. 
 
 THE QUID NUNCS. 
 
 " Although the vine its fruit deny, 
 The budding fig-tree droop and die, 
 No oil the olive yield." 
 
 ONDERDONK. 
 
 HE excitement and discontent which the con- 
 duct of the war produced in all the New Eng- 
 land States, amounted at this its second year, 
 ^ almost to armed revolution. Far from learn- 
 ing by its previous mistakes, the administration pursued 
 the same ruinous policy, of openly avowing its determi- 
 nation to outrage those fundamental principles of civil 
 liberty so dear to the rugged New England yeoman. The 
 garrisons in the various forts on the seaboard were with- 
 drawn and sent to swell the number of victims daily offered 
 up on the Canada line. The coasts were everywhere in- 
 sulted ; a large section of Massachusetts, now known as the 
 state of Maine, was overrun and permanently held by the 
 enemy. Every port was blockaded, so that not even a 
 fishing-smack could escape. Cut off from commerce, then 
 almost their only resource, the people groaned under the 
 double burden of taxation and want of money. Not a 
 single bank but had suspended payment. Of gold and
 
 THE QUID NUNCS. 133 
 
 silver, there absolutely was none. The busy, thriving 
 towns, so lately the seats of healthy commercial activity, 
 were now silent and deserted. Joined to all this, was 
 a fixed belief in the minds of a majority of the population, 
 that the war itself was unjust, iniquitous, and unnecessary. 
 Public meetings were held, seditious and inflammatory 
 public speeches were not only listened to but openly 
 applauded. The legislatures of the different States were 
 overwhelmed by petitions, demanding resistance to the 
 acts of the general government. When affairs were in 
 this condition, Massachusetts made a call for a convention. 
 To the conservative leaders in Connecticut this looked al- 
 most like a separation of their Union. Mr. Hamilton, one 
 of, if not the very ablest statesman, stood appalled. An 
 absence of several months in Washington had prevented 
 him from fully appreciating the sentiment of the people- 
 That class in which he had always found the strongest 
 supporters, and of which our friend Deacon Knapp may 
 be regarded as an example, were, if not in favor of actual 
 separation, certainly doing nothing to prevent it. Doctor 
 Spencer's long illness had removed him from any active 
 part. Mr. Hamilton knew whichever way the church 
 threw her weight, that way would Connecticut act. He 
 was inexpressibly touched at the burst of affection which 
 greeted him on his entry into Doctor Spencer's room. 
 
 " Hamilton, my friend, my pupil, my adviser, are you 
 restored to me." The two men held each other closely by 
 the hand, and a silence of several moments followed. Mr. 
 Hamilton seated himself in the chair the Deacon vacated, 
 and was about making some inquiries as to his friend's 
 health, when he was stopped by the Doctor.
 
 134 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " Pshaw ! " he said ; " what matter the health of a frail 
 old man. Dark rumors have reached me, even in this 
 solitude, rumors of strife, sedition, and even of division. 
 Can it be true. Watchman ! tell me of the night." 
 
 " Alas, Spencer, it is but too true ! Where is our ark? 
 what is our refuge ? " 
 
 " Here in the hearts of our northern yeomen," said the 
 old clergyman. " Division ! it must be checked, and by 
 such men as you, Hamilton, who still cling to the old faith." 
 
 " Doctor Spencer," said Deacon Knapp, " you have 
 been a man of God from your youth. You have been 
 placed over us in the flesh to minister to us in the spirit. 
 And you are bound to lift up your voice and testify to the 
 truth, as it is shown you, before the whole congregation." 
 
 " Such have ever been my efforts, Deacon, so far as frail 
 human nature would permit. But what can I do ? Sick, 
 old, helpless. One among so many." 
 
 " Much ! " broke in Mr. Hamilton. " I myself came 
 here to obtain, if I could, your influence ; but I dread the 
 effect on your health." 
 
 The Doctor waved his hand impatiently. 
 
 " Do you say that we, the yoemen for I am one, and I 
 accept the word, Mr. Hamilton," said the Deacon, with a 
 dignity at variance with his usual manner " are bound to 
 submit to tyranny and oppression. To see ourselves ground 
 down between the upper and the lower millstone. Our 
 sons slaughtered, the substance of our little ones wasted and 
 destroyed, to prosecute a war which we know to be not 
 only useless, but wicked in the sight of man, and before 
 the God of Israel. And I, for one, hope that we we, the 
 people in whom is all power, form a confederacy, welcom-
 
 THE QUID NUNCS. 135 
 
 ing in such other sister States as feel as we do, under the 
 protection of England." 
 
 " Hush ! old man," exclaimed Mr. Hamilton, springing 
 from his chair. "This must not, this shall not be. 
 Spencer, the plague has indeed broken forth, and you and 
 your brethren must, like Aaron of old, stand between ' the 
 living and the dead, and stay the plague.' " 
 
 " Will the people submit to a Convention will they be 
 bound by its ruling ? " asked the Doctor. 
 
 " These are questions I every day ask myself in vain. 
 The overwhelming majority which sides with this old man 
 will make our words, I fear, only empty sound." 
 
 " Even that will do good, if the words are words of wis- 
 dom, temperately, calmly spoken," said the Doctor. " But 
 can we trust them ? will not the delegates themselves be 
 affected by the insults, the " 
 
 " And why shouldn't it affect them," broke in the 
 Deacon. " Why should not these men call a spade a spade ? 
 Why should we teach our children to huzza, every fourth of 
 July, at the noble action of our forefathers in signing the 
 Declaration of Independence, and we, their children, sit 
 down calmly under a tyranny ten times more grinding. Oh, 
 don't shake your head at me, Hamilton. The same Eng- 
 lish blood flows in both our veins, although your ancestors 
 were gentlemen and mine only yeomen. They both fought 
 at Naseby and Worcester, and they were both willing to 
 suffer for conscience sake." 
 
 " You ask why the reasons Mr. Hamilton has named 
 should not sway the delegates to this Convention, Deacon 
 Knapp," said the old clergyman, raising himself with diffi- 
 culty on the sofa on which he was lying, a faint color appear-
 
 136 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 ing on his cheek, in the excitement of the moment. " I will 
 tell you. England denied to us the right of representation, 
 and we have it. We may be overruled, but we still have 
 the right of voting. Our representatives are a minority 
 an abused, a trampled on minority, if you will but they 
 still hold their seats in the halls of our Senate. The taxes 
 under which we groan are laid on us by representatives, 
 freely chosen by the people themselves. The common law 
 of England, our birthright and our heritage, is still admin- 
 istered by our courts. No Lords in Council, no Star 
 Chamber spread their gloomy horrors over our land. Caste 
 is unknown among our people. Religion, untrammelled by 
 an hierarchal state, spreads its fair beams over our country. 
 Education is free and open to all, Negro slavery, the blot 
 on our institutions, must in the course of a few years die 
 out, and then we shall stand, a free, independent, homo- 
 geneous people, owing it all under God, to the very Con- 
 stitution which you, vain old man, would rend asunder. 
 Go on, Hamilton ; urge on this Convention by pen and 
 word. Debate, remonstrate, supplicate even, but never 
 rebel. I am weary now," he said, sinking back, then clasp- 
 ing his hands, he added, " Let us pray." The old man's 
 face became almost angelic, his eyes were suffused with 
 tears, and his voice shook and trembled, but became 
 stronger as he went on. 
 
 " Oh thou, who art the only Shepherd of the sheep ; who 
 leadeth thy people by the hand through the dark valley 
 of the shadow, and bringest them to the living waters, 
 comfort, protect, and bless this thy people. Give them 
 true religion. Make them to love, comfort, and protect 
 each other. Establish their earthly kingdom in righteous-
 
 THE QUID NUNCS. 137 
 
 ness, as an undivided kingdom. Crush out all treasons, 
 rebellions, and fratricidal strife. Bless their rulers, en- 
 lighten their minds, and give them pure hearts and clean 
 hands. Relieve, pity, and forgive this thy servant, who 
 now prayeth. Amen." 
 
 When the two men reached the street, the Deacon was 
 the first to break the silence. 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton, I have been wrong. I have let angry 
 feelings and bitterness of spirit lead me away. I am what 
 Doctor Spencer called me a vain old man. Go on in this 
 good work. Gather together the elders of Israel, and 
 speak words of warning to this stiff-necked and rebellious 
 generation. From this moment I will aid you with heart 
 'and hand." 
 
 " I knew you would come out right, Deacon," said the 
 other, warmly wringing his hand. " It is not from the men 
 of your principles that danger will come to our beloved 
 country. The struggle which will strain our institutions 
 will come from the unprincipled Southern adventurer, when 
 he strives to retain in bondage a class of men whose 
 only crime is their color, and whom the resistless current 
 of human progress will set at liberty, as surely as the day 
 star is on high." 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton, to change the subject, what will be- 
 come of this boy here, this Edward Mason. My heart 
 bleeds to see Sibyl's sad face. I shun the subject. I pre- 
 tend not to know he is trembling over the grave, because I 
 have not the courage to tell her what I think." 
 
 " Alas, my old friend ! I was not able to act as you 
 have done. That lovely girl besought me to shield and 
 save her lover. I would gladly do so, at the risk of my
 
 138 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 life. My only hope is in the clemency of the British gov- 
 ernment." 
 
 " Are our people such darned fools as to think any gov- 
 ernment on earth is going to give up the right to punish 
 desertion of its soldiers in the very face of the enemy, 
 and by calling them American citizens, make them any 
 the less traitors ? " 
 
 " My dear sir," said Hamilton, " the Irish vote controls 
 the State of New York, and with that State rests the dura- 
 bility of the Democratic power. Until the election is over 
 not one step will James Madison rescind. My only hope 
 is that the British Government will delay until after the 
 election, and then an exchange of prisoners may be made." 
 
 " But we are bringing this war back into barbarism," 
 said the Deacon. " One retaliatory measure leads to an- 
 other. Defenceless towns will be sacked and burned next, 
 and women and children turned houseless and homeless 
 in the field to find shelter where they may." 
 
 " Only too true. Have you not heard that the threat 
 has been made of making the Canadian peasantry regret 
 not having aided our arms." 
 
 " Now look here, Mr. Hamilton, do not let us talk any 
 more politics. The solemn sadness of that scene is creep- 
 ing over me. That good old man, that fervent prayer, that 
 long lingering hope in the future. You can do nothing for 
 that boy ? " 
 
 " For the twentieth time, I say, Deacon Knapp, abso- 
 lutely nothing." 
 
 " Hamilton, what is the matter with you ? You are not 
 what you used to be. The same intellect is there, and the 
 same noble heart, but the spirit is not the same like. Con-
 
 THE QUID NUNCS. 139 
 
 fide in me. It does a man, even so strong a man as you 
 are, ever so much good to pour out his spirit even to some 
 poor weak vessel like unto me." 
 
 " No, Knapp, not even to you. When a man reaches 
 middle life he often finds, that having sowed the wind he 
 must reap the whirlwind alone. Good-bye." 
 
 The two men parted, and as the Deacon stood looking 
 after the retreating figure of the statesman, he muttered in 
 soliloquy 
 
 " There's the best among them going to wreck. I won- 
 der what has caused this change. He could have had any 
 office he wanted. 'Tain't that. Can't be possible there's 
 a woman at the bottom Sibyl " he whistled softly, and 
 added, " I'll ask our Sally, she's smart like all women at 
 these things she will know." 
 
 The Deacon had taken but few steps from the place 
 where he had been standing when he was accosted by a 
 man in the worn habiliments of a soldier, who, without 
 speaking, stood in front of him pulling off at the same time 
 the cap he wore. The Deacon hardly gave him a glance, 
 but supposing him to be one of the numerous vagrants 
 who made the war a pretext for mendicity and idleness, was 
 about delivering a homily on the sin he was committing, 
 while at the same time he extended a few coppers. Stern 
 and inflexible as were his principles, the Deacon's pity 
 often gave " ere charity began." 
 
 " Fve no objection to your money, Deacon," said a 
 well-remembered voice, " but I'd rather earn it. And as 
 for the matter of that, I'm not so hard up as I looks. Sup- 
 pose we shake hands." 
 
 " Bless my soul ! " said the Deacon, wiping his eyes
 
 I4O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 with his handkerchief, " if it isn't Eph. Where on earth 
 did you spring from ? " 
 
 " Well, now, you see the time I listed for," returned 
 Eph., warmly shaking the extended hand, " came to an 
 end, and as Ed. was no longer there, I thought I'd run 
 home and see the folks, 'specially the Parson. Kinder 
 thought from what I heard, the old man was a-failing." 
 
 11 Bless me, how the boy is changed ! " said the other, 
 disregarding the last inquiry, and holding him off at arm's- 
 length. " Playing soldier seems to agree with you." 
 
 " You may call it playing if you like, and I sha'n't con- 
 tradict you. But the old gentleman isn't dead, that ye 
 don't answer a civil question, is he ? " 
 
 " No, no, he is not dead. That is, the mind's here, and 
 the sweet loving heart's here," continued the old man, his 
 voice trembling as he drew the other on by the arm in the 
 direction of his farm. " But the soul is anchored fast on 
 the Rock of Ages. You had better come and eat your 
 dinner with us. The Doctor has had a little too much ex- 
 citement this morning, and the women folks '11 be sure to 
 tell him ye were here. In the cool of the evening in 
 the cool of the evening, we will come up together, or we'll 
 drive Sally and the baby up. May cheer her up a bit." 
 
 " Cheer who," asked Eph., looking at him with wonder- 
 ing eyes. " The old lady." 
 
 " No, Sibyl. She mourns for the sick father and the 
 dead lover, like Rachel in the Holy Book." 
 
 " Dead ! " screamed Eph., " what, Ed. dead ? " 
 
 " He might as well be," muttered the other. " He is 
 one of them hostages the British hold." 
 
 Ephraim's puritanical education gave way, and the
 
 THE QUID NUNCS. 
 
 oath he uttered was fearful. For the first time in his life 
 the Deacon listened to profanity without administering a 
 rebuke. 
 
 " What. Ed., the boy I played with, the man I've loved, 
 going to be shot like a dog, and I here safe and sound. 
 And Sibyl, old man, tell me about Sibyl. How does she 
 bear this ? " 
 
 " Sweetly, sweetly," answered the Deacon. " They 
 have kept it from the Doctor, and she goes round the 
 house so pale and sad, it makes your very heart bleed. 
 The Doctor's one of the elect. We know it, we feel it, 
 and He will ' temper the wind to the shorn lamb.' Don't 
 you think so, Eph. ? " 
 
 He asked the last question almost pleadingly, as if his 
 heart broke through the stern fatalism of his creed, and he 
 wished to be assured that mercy and love would be the 
 portion of the suffering girl. Eph.'s heart was too full 
 for words, he could only nod an assent. It was some 
 minutes before the silence was broken. When he asked 
 suddenly 
 
 " Where's Sam. Griswold gone too ? " 
 
 " Not as we knows of, thanks be to God ! He's up there 
 somewhere about the lakes. Likely enough we will hear 
 of his death. Most of the good ones go first." 
 
 " Of course they do," said the other ; " but that's luck. 
 But to think of poor Ed. shut up for long weary weeks, 
 thinking every morning when the sun rises he is shining on 
 his last day. Not a friend to speak to, not a word of sym- 
 pathy. Oh ! its too hard." 
 
 " Eph., my son, when you get down afore Sally you 
 must keep your dander up a little. I don't wonder she
 
 142 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 trembles every time any one conies by the door. She is 
 so like her mother. So like. Ah, me ! " 
 
 Mrs. Griswold justified the Deacon's statement when 
 she appeared at the door, her face worn and anxious. She 
 had her baby on her arm, a fat, healthy boy, who, young as 
 he was, crowed with delight at seeing his grandfather. To 
 have some one come fresh from the army who could talk 
 and tell all those things which they most longed to know, 
 was a pleasure not easily obtained in a quiet New England 
 village. Eph. was by nature a keen observer, and his mil- 
 itary life had not lasted so long as to turn him into a ma- 
 chine, and now loosened from the restraints of discipline, 
 his comments were more than free on the conduct of the 
 war.
 
 CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 FALLEN FROM GRACE. 
 
 " For those that fly and fight again, 
 Which he can never do that's slain." 
 
 BUTLER. 
 
 HE Deacon was as good as his word, and in 
 the evening he drove Eph. down to Doctor 
 Spencer's. The old gentleman hailed the 
 boy's return with the affection of a father 
 He held him at arm's-length, closely studied his face and 
 form, and laughed for the first time in many days, with 
 some of the ring of old times. 
 
 " Ton my word," he said, ' Horrida belli,' if she sac- 
 rifices ruthlessly, certainly adorns her victims. Dresses, 
 that is the proper word, is it not, eh ? Mr. Hamilton. Just 
 look, mother, our Eph., whose fondness for bread and 
 sugar overcame every restraint, absolutely a sergeant in 
 the regular army. Oh, you need not look disdainfully at 
 my military talk, I too, have girded my sword upon my 
 thigh and ridden in the ranks of war ! " 
 
 "I remember, Mr. Hamilton," Doctor Spencer con- 
 tinued, pressing Eph. into a seat by his side and still af- 
 fectionately holding his hand, " I remember in the Sara- 
 toga campaign delivering a discourse on the expression 
 ' Northern Army,' purposely omitting to give chapter and 
 verse. There was hardly a man in the regiment who did 
 not read his Bible through, to have the satisfaction of find- 
 
 (M3)
 
 144 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 ing the chaplain in error." Doctor Spencer lay back on 
 his couch and laughed heartily at the remembrance of a 
 joke, so strictly in accordance with the Puritan humor of 
 New England. 
 
 Taking advantage of the break in her father's atten- 
 tion to Eph., which Mr. Hamilton's answer caused, Sibyl, 
 who was trembling with impatience to question the young 
 man on the smallest particular which concerned Edward, 
 beckoned him to follow her from the room. Probably in 
 Eph.'s life he had never been so thoroughly uncomfortable. 
 His keen eye had shown him the deep settled look of an- 
 guish which the girl's face wore, and he hesitated to relate 
 to her his apparent, though not real, desertion of Edward. 
 He stood before her more like a guilty schoolboy than the 
 brave, iron-armed soldier he really was. 
 
 " Well, well," she said, in a tone and manner at strange 
 variance with her soft, loving nature. " So you have come 
 back, and where is he ? Can't you answer me have you 
 lost your tongue ? " 
 
 "Now you see, Sibyl, somehow we got kinder sepa- 
 rated that evening, and as I had charge of some ten of 
 our fellows, I didn't have a chance to look after Ned, as I 
 should have wished to." 
 
 " You left him, you, his playmate in boyhood you, 
 who called yourself his friend, you left him to save your- 
 self. Coward ! " And the woman hissed rather than 
 spoke the insulting word. 
 
 Eph. grew deadly white to the very lips. He trembled 
 so that he could hardly stand. Scarcely looking at him, 
 Sibyl went on. 
 
 " Here, in this very room ; there, sitting by that
 
 FALLEN FROM GRACE. 145 
 
 window, you were the first one to urge his going into the 
 army. ' We want to show,' you said, ' what the old Con- 
 necticut blood can do ? ' Am I not speaking the truth ? " 
 
 Eph. could only nod. 
 
 " I speak the truth do I ? You came back without a 
 wound. Ephraim Dodge, you have been brought up in 
 my father's house from childhood, sick, and we have 
 nursed you, poor, we have clothed and fed you. Where 
 now, I ask, is the man I love ? " 
 
 " Great God ! Sibyl, don't be so hard on a fellow. You 
 know I love Ned. You know that barring the folks in 
 this house, there ain't nobody I care for so much as him. 
 I ain't much given to bragging, but I say it, who shouldn't 
 ought to, I'd take his place to-morrow. But what could I 
 do. Now you've got a little composed like, let me tell 
 you the whole thing. We had been more than twenty 
 hours separated from the rest, and Ned he began to get 
 worried like. Every few minutes we'd hear the sound of 
 bugles, first on our right, then on our left. We were in a 
 piece of scrub oak. Sibyl, you don't know what a scrub 
 oak swamp is, until you see one in the Adirondacks." 
 
 " Oh, man, you will drive me frantic ! Tell me where 
 you last saw him." 
 
 " There then, now I didn't mean it, no, I didn't, you 
 see, we were just caught like a rat in a trap, we were sur- 
 rounded, as I may say. It began to get dark, and Ned, 
 said he, just hold the men together as well as you can, and 
 fall back slowly while I step to that rising ground and 
 take a look. And that's the last I ever see of Ned, nor 
 
 hear tell of him either, until I got back to D . Now 
 
 there's the truth, so help me." 
 
 10
 
 146 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 Sibyl was greatly touched by the boy's emotion. She 
 held out her hand, saying : 
 
 " I did you injustice, Eph., you are what I always 
 thought you, true and honest. But oh, Eph., the agony of 
 sitting here, hour after hour and knowing yourself power- 
 less, not to be able to hold out a helping hand, not to be 
 able to soothe, not to say one word of love ! " 
 
 " Can't nothing be done, Sibyl ? Isn't there some one 
 who would take an interest in Ned's case ? 'Tain't no 
 use to sit here a-crying. Can't Mr. Hamilton do some- 
 thing with this here blasted government ? You ought to 
 ax him, Sibyl, he's been awful sweet on you afore now." 
 
 " I have asked him, time and time again, Eph. But 
 you ought not to say such things, you do not know how 
 you pain me ; I know that, as a friend, Mr. Hamilton would 
 do any thing." 
 
 " Dare say, dare say," said Eph., seating himself and 
 extending his legs well out before him. " Friendship's a 
 fine thing, when ye don't run it too far. See here, now, 
 Sibyl, I ain't got your education, nor I ain't so smart as 
 Ned, but I ain't a fool neither. Do ye think I ain't seen 
 the old man a hanging round ye for the last five years for 
 nothing not to speak of the old lady, whose set her heart 
 years ago to have you a Senator's lady." 
 
 " How dare you speak to me in this way, sir ? " said 
 Sibyl, springing to her feet, her cheeks red as fire. " How 
 dare you make such insinuations ? " 
 
 "Whose 'sinuated anything I'd like to know? When I 
 say any thing ag'in yer, it'll be time for yer to defend yer- 
 self. That an't ther question afore the court. The p'int 
 is, kin we git Ed. out of prison. Can't you make the old
 
 FALLEN FROM GRACE. 147 
 
 man take another trip to Washington ? I guess ye kin if ye 
 try, women can make a man do most any thing when they 
 sets their mind to it." 
 
 " Oh, Eph., how can you talk so ! Have I not asked 
 and begged him almost on my knees. Have I not told 
 him I would worship him if he could only get Edward 
 off." 
 
 " Phew ! wasn't that going jist a little too far. Ye 
 might have said ye'd have remembered him. That's what 
 they tell ye when they bring a horse in as wet as a 
 drowned rat, on a July day, and darned little good it does 
 you as a rule. Now look here, Sibyl, there's the Deacon 
 a-hollowing, I promised the old man I'd ride back and 
 spend the night." 
 
 " Why, Eph., are you not going to stay with us ? " 
 
 " Not to-night, Sibyl, not to-night. You see, if it got 
 round I was to hum ; all the boys would be after getting 
 me down to the tavern, and that costs a pile of money. 
 No, no, I prefer to take them single in the morning. It 
 don't cost more than half. See here, Sibyl, I am going to 
 have a talk with the Deacon. He's a mighty smart man 
 in his way, and there's no knowing what he may cut out. 
 Ned's not dead yet, by a long shot. So you jist keep up 
 your spirits, and come it over the Senator. Do ye under- 
 stand ? Good-night ! " 
 
 Eph. hesitated somewhat about introducing the subject 
 to his old companion. He made several ineffectual begin- 
 nings, but they were done in such a roundabout manner, 
 that the only effect produced was a long stare. The doubt 
 of Eph.'s sobriety being for the moment a suspicion in the 
 Deacon's mind.
 
 148 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 "What on earth's there to hesitate about ! Why 
 shouldn't Mr. Hamilton set about getting Ed. out of 
 trouble. 'Tain't asking much of the old man any way. 
 See here, Deacon." These last words were uttered 
 aloud. 
 
 "Wai," said the Deacon, giving the reins a jerk to 
 quicken the steps of the old horse he was driving " wal, 
 what on earth ails the boy ye ain't giddy, are ye ? Ye 
 be'ant taken sick like, be you ? " 
 
 " Sick ! " exclaimed Eph., bursting into a hearty laugh 
 as he took in the situation ; " no, no, I ain't drunk. De 
 ye see, I think I've put my foot into it." 
 
 u Judging from the kick you give me just this minute 
 I should say it was a pretty big one," chuckled the Deacon 
 at his own wit. " Tell the old man, boy, is it a gal ? " 
 
 " I ain't taking in any thing I sowed myself I ain't 
 much given to women, Deacon. I've got the old man to 
 look after, and he costs so much in these times that I 
 can't afford to even wink at a petticoat de ye see ! " 
 
 " I see you've got an old head if it be on young shoul- 
 ders, Eph. Dodge my boy, go on ! " 
 
 " Now, Deacon, while you and the others were talking 
 in the parlor, Sibyl and I had it out in the dining-room. 
 My eyes, what a going over she gave me." 
 
 " Going over ; what on earth do you mean ? " 
 
 " Just what I say," replied Eph. doggedly. 
 
 They had reached the door of the house at this point 
 of the conversation, and the hired man came out to whom 
 the Deacon gave the horse, unlike his usual manner, with- 
 out a word of advice or direction. He took Eph. by the 
 arm and led the way directly to the kitchen, the common
 
 FALLEN FROM GRACE. 149 
 
 sitting-room of the family. His daughter, the servant 
 girl told him, had gone to bed. He waved his hand im- 
 patiently. 
 
 " I want something to drink, Phoebe, I am cold, and I 
 am thirsty, and I am tired." 
 
 He released Eph. as he spoke and proceeded to relieve 
 himself from the folds of his dark blue camlet cloak. 
 Methodically he hung both cloak and hat in the passage 
 behind the front door, speaking to the servant girl as he 
 did so. 
 
 " We will have prayers first, and then, Phcebe, can't you 
 get us a little hot water, and there is, or ought to be, more 
 than a half bottle of Jamaica in the cupboard, and then ye 
 can go to bed if you're a-mind to. Do you hear. Reach 
 me down the Bible, we won't wait for John. Yer must be 
 sleepy." 
 
 Eph. was surprised, and to a certain extent pleased, at 
 the shortness of the Deacon's evening devotion. When 
 they were alone the old man mixed a stiff tumbler of grog, 
 lit his long clay pipe, and seating himself immediately in 
 front of the fire spread out both his legs to their utmost 
 extent, and exclaimed 
 
 " Well ! " 
 
 "Well! "retorted Eph. 
 
 The Deacon stared at him through his spectacles, 
 which he had forgotten to remove. Then pushed the 
 glasses up on his forehead, and finally said : 
 
 " I take back what I said on the street, you're no better 
 than an innocent, you ain't." 
 
 Eph. never moved a muscle of his face but hitched his 
 chair rather closer to the fire.
 
 I5O SIBYL SPENCER, 
 
 " To fall in love with Sibyl, was prehaps natural ; but 
 for sich a boy as you to tell her so, was clean agin nature. 
 Ephraim Dodge, you're a fool ! " 
 
 Eph.'s eyes twinkled with fun. 
 
 " Prehaps you're right, Deacon ; I've thought so often 
 myself. But you mark my words, Deacon Knapp, yu've 
 got the wrong sow by the ear. When there's a woman in 
 the case, thar's no fool like an old fool." 
 
 " What ! " sputtered the Deacon, choking between the 
 hot rum and his astonishment. The tears stood in his 
 eyes at the agony he was enduring. " You have been to 
 the public school : let us hear some of the King's English, 
 can't ye." 
 
 Eph. slowly allowed himself to sink down in his chair 
 until he rested almost on his shoulders, and placed his 
 feet nearly on the top of the high wooden mantel. 
 
 " They make a strong team when they pull together, 
 such a man as Mr. Hamilton and the old woman and 
 she's bent on having Sibyl a grand lady, Mrs. Spencer is." 
 
 The Deacon gave a long low whistle. " So you've 
 found it out, have you you're cute, you are." 
 
 " I can see as far as most men, I can ; but that ain't 
 nothing to the subject. Look a-here, Deacon, nuther 
 side's a-going to hang them prisoners. They're only going 
 to keep um shut up a while. I do believe Sibyl loves Ned 
 as well as a woman can love, but you know its a great 
 temptation to go and live in New Haven, and be the rich 
 lady of the State, and all that, ain't it now ? " 
 
 " Who'd a thought it who'd a thought it," muttered 
 the Deacon as he leaned over the fire. " Help yourself, 
 there's more liquor where that comes from. I ain't in
 
 FALLEN FROM GRACE. 
 
 spirits to night. I've pinned my faith on that man. He's 
 better nor fifty-five years old, I'm sixty-five come next 
 August. Eph. my boy, as you grow old, you'll see how 
 true the blessed Book is. It's the old story over again. 
 The rich man with his flocks and herds and he sot his 
 heart on the one ewe lamb who'd a thought it." 
 
 There was a long silence, broken only by the Deacon's 
 muttered exclamations of disgust as he endeavored to mix 
 his toddy to his taste. First too strong, then too weak ; at 
 length Eph. said : 
 
 " There's no trusting them ere women, I just hinted 
 it to Sibyl, and though she fired up like, she got as red as 
 if she'd been stealing sweetmeats. I tell you, Deacon, 
 there's no trusting of them." 
 
 " I suppose not," muttered the other sorrowfully ; " I 
 suppose not ; I suspicioned something, but it never struck 
 me as how Arthur Hamilton would have broken the tenth 
 commandment." 
 
 " 'Tain't so bad as that," Eph. exclaimed, springing to 
 his feet a little unsteadily, for the fire was hot and the 
 Jamaica strong. 
 
 " If I thought as how, I tell you Deacon, if he is the 
 head man in the State, I'm damned if " 
 
 " Hush, hush ! " said the Deacon ; " it kinder strikes 
 me as how we've got this thing mixed up, jist as you've 
 mixed the commandments. Let's sleep on it, and to-mor- 
 row I'll have a talk with Hamilton. He won't get the 
 better of me, I can tell you. Thar's your room : do you 
 think you can put out your candle? Guess I'll blow it out, 
 you can see pretty well by the moonshine. Good night ! " 
 
 It would have been difficult to find a more sheepish
 
 152 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 looking man than Deacon Knapp on the following morn- 
 ing. In honor of Eph.'s return from the war, the old man 
 had broken out into unwonted hospitality, and the liquor 
 had made him, if not intoxicated, at least garrulous ; and 
 what wounded him far more than any thing else, was that 
 he had in a slight degree fallen from his high estate. As 
 he would have expressed it, he was no longer fit to sit in 
 the gate and judge Israel as they passed. 
 
 Shrewd, prudent, and wise beyond his years, Eph. had 
 been brought up in a different school. Temperate he was 
 both by nature and habit ; but his army experience had 
 made him acquainted with many worse scenes. A dip of 
 his curly head in a bucket of water fresh from the well, a 
 rub with the harsh roller which hung behind the kitchen 
 door, the use of a wooden pocket-comb, by the aid of a 
 cracked looking-glass hardly larger than his hand, and 
 Eph.'s simple toilet was complete. 
 
 The Deacon looked at him in wonder and envy as he 
 sat eating heartily of the plain but abundant breakfast. 
 For almost the first time in his life the Deacon wished he 
 was young again. Oh, how ignorant we are until we lose 
 it ! of the strange wild pleasure of merely being young, 
 well has the great magician sung, he who could sound 
 every " depth and shoal " of the human heart, after a 
 long, honorable, laborious and successful life 
 
 " Take the wealth, take the honors ye have brought in your train, 
 But give me the joys of my spring tide again." 
 
 " Mrs. Griswold, marm," said Eph. as he pushed back 
 his chair with a sigh of exhaustion, " them sossengers is 
 fit for General Washington, and as for the buckwheats, I
 
 FALLEN FROM GRACE. 153 
 
 don't believe I could hold any more if I was to stand up," 
 and he suited the action to the word. Standing with his 
 back to the fire he surveyed his host with keen inquiring 
 eyes. 
 
 " It 'pears to me you're a little off your feed, Deacon. 
 That last glass of Jamaica was a mite too much. Thought 
 so when you took it." 
 
 How the Deacon glared at him. What right had youth 
 and a strong stomach to grin at him at his own table, and 
 far worse than all, before his own daughter. Almost 
 pathetically he cast a glance at the woman sitting so 
 quietly at the head of the table. He took in the slight 
 smile, half smile half sneer, which just curled the corners 
 of that handsome mouth. How much she looked like her 
 mother ! and, by Jupiter ! she had known it all along. 
 
 ic l am going down to the village, Sally, this morning," 
 said the Deacon with more than ordinary dignity of man- 
 ner. " I am going to have a little talk with neighbor 
 Hamilton. There's a little something going on which 
 worries me like not that I believe it, but then from the 
 position I hold in the church on earth " 
 
 The Deacon hesitated, colored, at the remembrance of 
 last night, and cast a look at his young companion for the 
 assistance he needed. 
 
 " Ye see, Mrs. Griswold, marm, the fact of this matter 
 is " Here Eph. stopped what was the fact which had 
 caused so much trouble in his mind. 
 
 " I guess, Sally, you know as how Ed. Mason's away, 
 don't ye ? " 
 
 " Certainly," replied the woman as she raised her full, 
 honest black eyes to the speaker's face. " Everybody 
 knows that fact."
 
 154 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 "Well, now, you see, the truth is the Deacon and 
 me, we think, don't we Deacon that Mr. Hamilton is jist 
 a little, only a little how shall I say it too thick with our 
 Sibyl. Don't we, Deacon ?" 
 
 The Deacon hesitated to give any answer to this ap- 
 peal. He did not like the look in his daughter's eyes. It 
 was the first time he had ever seen her look at him in that 
 way. He cleared his voice once or twice before he an- 
 swered : 
 
 " My daughter, no man acknowledges the weakness of 
 poor human nature more than I do. Even the elect on 
 'arth may fall a little from grace and yet be saved. It is 
 the duty of us who are called to watch over the Israel of 
 God to hold out the helping hand, even if he doesn't 
 belong to our communion, when we see him a-struggling 
 agin the weaknesses of poor human nature." 
 
 Sally could stand it no longer, she placed both her 
 elbows on the table, leaned her face on her hands, looked 
 the man fully in the face, and said in a perfectly clear and 
 distinct voice 
 
 " Just listen to me. Here I am, a woman whose hus- 
 band is far away, God knows if he is living or dead ! a 
 woman, neither by birth nor intelligence, nor education, to 
 be named with Sibyl Spencer. I ask you what would be 
 your feelings, as my father, if some stranger to your hearth- 
 stone made insinuations against me. I ask " 
 
 " Nobody's making insinuations," broke in Eph. " I'd 
 like to see 'em ! I ain't no fool ! wasn't I brought up in the 
 family ? don't I love Ed. better nor any thing on 'arth ? isn't 
 the old woman always a-praising up Mr. Hamilton and 
 a-telling Sibyl what she's missed in not setting her cap
 
 FALLEN FROM GRACE. 155 
 
 for him ? Isn't the man himself thar every day of his life ! 
 Don't I know what you women are ! " 
 
 " No you don't," burst in Sally, her eyes flashing and 
 losing all restraint ; " you are nothing but a meddlesome, 
 officious, interfering school-boy, that's what you are. 
 Father, dear father, listen to me." 
 
 " My daughter, it may be you are right ; but my office 
 as Deacon in Doctor Spencer's congregation requires I 
 should speak to Arthur Hamilton, and I will do it, this 
 day, if I die for it." 
 
 He left the kitchen, slamming the door after him as 
 he went.
 
 CHAPTER XIV. 
 
 "THE WORD IN SEASON. 
 
 " But of all plagues, good Heaven thy wrath can send, 
 Save, save, oh save me from the candid friend." 
 
 NEW MORALITY. 
 
 R. HAMILTON'S residence was in the town of 
 New Haven, but he owned a small house in 
 
 the village of D , to which was attached 
 
 quite a productive farm. Debarred by the 
 prejudices of his fellow-citizens from the turf, then the 
 great resort of all the large landholders both north and 
 south, Mr. Hamilton had turned his attention to cattle, and 
 had introduced into Connecticut almost the first imported 
 stock animals brought to America. It was questionable 
 whether in a pecuniary way he was not largely a loser by 
 his agricultural and breeding experiments. Many were the 
 sneers and jokes thrown at the squire, and the one ques- 
 tion, so dear to the New England heart, was repeatedly 
 asked : " Did it pay ? " Pecuniarily, No ; as a relaxation 
 for the overworked statesman and lawyer, Yes. But 
 there was a deeper reason, why he cherished and spent 
 every possible moment at this outlying farm. It was by
 
 "THE WORD IN SEASON. 157 
 
 this means he could be, unsuspectedly, as he thought, 
 near Sibyl. Perhaps her shadow, passing by, like that of 
 Peter's in Holy Writ, might " overshadow him." At all 
 events, he could watch, minister and suffer. 
 
 Few persons, had they seen Arthur Hamilton in that 
 clear, bright winter's morning, standing by the fire of the 
 room he designated as " study," his portly figure set off 
 to advantage by the dress of the day, his hair just 
 tinged with gray, his color high, his eye bright, every mark 
 of a firm, resolute, self-reliant man about him, would have 
 thought him the victim of unrequited love. The old 
 Deacon, resolute and strong as he was, hesitated at open- 
 ing the interview. 
 
 "My old friend," said Mr. Hamilton warmly wringing 
 his hand, "to what lucky chance am I to attribute the 
 pleasure of a visit from you ? You are too independent to 
 want a favor, and yet your face indicates trouble and 
 anxiety. Sit down and open your heart to me, you have 
 no warmer friend." 
 
 The Deacon cleared his throat. He even went so far 
 as to insinuate the possession of a cold. 
 
 "Well, squire," he said at length, letting himself fall 
 heavily into the chair Mr. Hamilton designated, " its 
 been a mighty severe winter on grain, especially wheat 
 not that that's much account here in Connecticut, seeing as 
 how we don't raise any to speak on. But what with the 
 worry of the war an' the rise in provisions, it's hard to think 
 how many is going afore spring." 
 
 " Has the season been more unhealthy than usual, Dea- 
 con ? " asked Mr. Hamilton. 
 
 " Yes, I should say so," continued the Deacon, " not
 
 158 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 that it matters much when ye go, if yer called. Don't you 
 agree with me, squire ? " 
 
 " Certainly, my old friend. If a man's life and heart 
 are right, if matters little when the last hour strikes on 
 the dial." 
 
 " Jist so, jist so, in that p'int we both agree. But as 
 I lay awake, in the dark watches of last night, squire, the 
 thought come over me of the story of ' David and Uriah 
 the Hittite ; ' you remember it, don't ye, squire ? " 
 
 " I certainly am sufficiently well read, Deacon, in my 
 Bible," said Mr. Hamilton with a laugh, drawing his chair 
 close to the fire, " not to have passed over perhaps the 
 most dramatic story in the Old Testament." 
 
 " If that's so, and I believe ye," said the Deacon, fixing 
 his cold blue eye on his companion, " I tell you, Arthur 
 Hamilton, as Nathan said unto David, 'Thou art the man.' " 
 
 Mr. Hamilton sprang to his feet. His face flushed, and 
 he clenched, perhaps unconsciously, his hands. His voice 
 was low and deep as he said : 
 
 " This passes the license of the sect to which you 
 belong. How dare you utter such words to me ? Here 
 sitting at my hearth-stone ; how dare you dishonor me by 
 such an imputation ? " 
 
 " How dare I, do you ask, Arthur Hamilton ? " said the 
 old Puritan, his eye glittering like the blue icicle of his 
 northern hills " because I am the friend of that girl's father; 
 because I am called to speak the word in season and out 
 of season ; because," and his voice faltered as he laid his 
 hand on the shoulder of the haughty man who stood quiv- 
 ering with anger before him, " because you have been, 
 since you were twenty, the personification of all that was
 
 "THE WORD IN SEASON. 159 
 
 noble and true and good in the old English stock we have 
 both sprung from. I'll not see you fall, Arthur Hamilton, 
 without lending you a helping hand." 
 
 Mr. Hamilton shook off the hand that rested on his 
 shoulder, and walked angrily up and down the room ; sud- 
 denly he stopped in front of the Deacon. His face had 
 lost the flush of anger, and he had grown very pale. 
 
 " Mr. Knapp, what the h do you mean ? " 
 
 It was the first time in an acquaintance of twenty years 
 that the man addressed had heard an oath fall from the 
 lips of Arthur Hamilton. The old man stood firm his 
 eyes never fell nor did his voice shake, and yet there was a 
 concentrated ferocity in the accent of Mr. Hamilton, which 
 might have made a resolute man tremble. 
 
 " What do I mean, do you ask ? you're getting into a 
 temper shows I am right ' The rich man had flocks and 
 herds and exceeding great riches,' the good Book says, 
 and the poor man ' only one pet ewe lamb.' I tell ye again, 
 Arthur Hamilton, ' you are the man.' " 
 
 It was by a tremendous struggle that the haughty senator 
 kept down any further signs of wrath. He looked into the 
 clear blue eye, and over the weather-worn frame of the 
 Deacon he actually stretched himself as if for a moment 
 contemplating a fierce physical onslaught ; then slowly 
 turned and walked to the window of the room, and looked 
 out on the bleak, snow-clad fields. His mind, rapid in 
 thought, brought before him the numerous little incidents 
 which might have been tortured by the gossip of a country 
 village. He saw the sweet, gentle girl, who treated him only 
 as the dear cherished friend. He had never breathed a word 
 of love since that day never made a gesture which the
 
 I6O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 whole world might not have seen yet he might have done 
 her an injury. He had done so, the unmerited rebuke of 
 the old man told him so. He turned, the Deacon was 
 standing, his hands behind his back, his head thrown for- 
 ward, his eyes cold and bright. 
 
 " Edward Mason, Mr. Knapp, came home last night." 
 
 " Was it your doings ? " 
 
 " No ! " thundered rather than spoke the other. " Sit 
 down there in that chair. I am a man, and as such have a 
 right to speak, even to a saint." 
 
 " I ain't no saint," muttered the Deacon. 
 
 " You think yourself one at any rate. Come, let me be 
 honest. After your lights, you are trying to do your duty. 
 Sit down there, I ask it as a favor. Mr. Knapp, you were 
 more than half right. From the bottom of my soul I envy 
 Edward Mason. Stop ! you have brought this on yourself ; 
 you must hear me out. From my youth up I have made the 
 world my home. Ambition, political success, the applause 
 of men, was my delight. There came creeping over me, 
 how I know not, a softer, holier feeling. I found pleasure 
 in things at which, years before, I should have smiled a 
 home, a fireside, in which the wayworn man, the unsuccess- 
 ful aspirant for honors not his, could find rest and peace. 
 Do you understand me ? " 
 
 " Well, yes ; you were weary. Ah, me ! I've been 
 weary too many's the time since Sally died." 
 
 " You had your daughter : I was alone. I used to come 
 here to talk with James Spencer, my old tutor at college, 
 my guide, my friend in later years. There I saw this vision 
 she slowly broke upon me in all her youthful sweetness. 
 She came to the man tired in spirit and in heart, as springs
 
 "THE WORD IN SEASON." 161 
 
 of water break out of a barren and dry land, to the way- 
 worn traveller." 
 
 " You shouldn't have allowed yerself to dwell on her. 
 You should have fled the spot when you saw the danger," 
 broke in the Deacon, deeply interested in the narrative. 
 
 " Old man, I am not what you call a religious man. 
 Through life I have made honor my guide." 
 
 "Yes, yes, I feared so," interrupted Knapp. " 'Tis al- 
 ways, or most generally, so with your class. Ye scorn the 
 word of life when it is held out to you in youth. Ye try to 
 make-honor yer sheet-anchor, and ye get shipwrecked when 
 the winds blow, and the waves run high." 
 
 " Hear me through," said Hamilton, smiling in spite of 
 himself at the quaint mixture of metaphor employed by 
 the other. " Sibyl Spencer is so self-contained, so calm 
 and gentle to all, that until the morning she refused to be 
 my wife, it never entered my head to dream she loved 
 another, much less this boy, this Edward Mason." 
 
 " Where were your eyes, squire. Why they belonged as 
 much to one another as if they had been called three times 
 in meeting. Yer never would have been took in so, if it 
 had been a question of politics. Would ye now ? " 
 
 "I admit my blindness. But you, you who have 
 known me from boyhood. Shame ! shame old man, to have 
 for one moment thought that Arthur Hamilton, for the 
 wealth of the universe, to obtain that which he values more 
 than wealth or titles or power, would stoop to do a base 
 act. Love her I do, but I love my manhood more." 
 
 " I believe ye," said the Deacon, holding out his hand. 
 " I believe ye squire, I've been an ass that's the long 
 and short of it. I ought to have judged you as I judge my-
 
 1 62 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 self. I loved my Sally as well as ever man loved a woman. 
 Her picture is hanging over my bed, and the last dress she 
 wore is a-hanging in the closet. There's not the woman 
 living can make me forget the sweet face. I see it every 
 time I look at my darter. She was bone of my bone and 
 flesh of my flesh. So ye see, I can feel for yer. There is 
 no consolation in that I know. You are, as you jist now 
 said, a true man, and you hide your grief in your own 
 breast. Good-by ! God bless you ! I was a fool ! I was a 
 fool ! " 
 
 " Stop, stop ! " said the other holding him back. " I am 
 not half done you say I am a man. Do you think that 
 manhood was not tried when that girl, almost on bended 
 knees, asked me, the rejected lover, to save the successful one 
 from an ignominious death ! To see day by day that pale 
 cheek grow paler, and that soft eye more languid, and know 
 I was powerless to assist or help. Was it in human nature, 
 I ask you now as a man would it not have been more than 
 human, to have wrapt myself in a stoical philosophy I do 
 not possess and gone off into the world, leaving her to 
 suffer. Old man, from the moment Sibyl Spencer told me 
 she loved another, I knew the grave had swallowed up my 
 love. She was suffering and I could suffer. Her joys are 
 my joys, her pains are my pains. I had my reward. It was 
 my voice that told her her lover lived. It was my hand 
 that last night led him to her. Their happiness shall be 
 my care, so long as life lasts, so help me God ! " 
 
 Deacon Knapp sat silently by the fire. He had heaped 
 the brands together on the hearth, and bent over the 
 flickering blaze. His face, strong and rugged, wore a softer 
 expression than usual, and he drew a long breath as Mr. 
 Hamilton concluded.
 
 "THE WORD IN SEASON." 163 
 
 " You come of a race which we have long honored here 
 in Connecticut, Arthur Hamilton, and for many a year 
 there's been none more honored, as least till the democrats 
 came in ; but you are ahead of the best of them. You are 
 worthy of your blood I couldn't have acted as you do. But, 
 thank the Lord ! I shall never be tempted, never be 
 tempted." 
 
 There was a long pause, broken at last by the Deacon. 
 " You called me a saint, when I first came in. I am no- 
 thing but a foolish, conceited old man. Because I don't 
 care for women ; because I don't go a-gadding round the 
 country like that Major Baylies, making a fool of myself 
 with a lot of chits young enough to be my granddarters 
 I thought myself strong ; and I had my temptations ; yes, 
 I did. I thought myself strong. I was proud in my own 
 conceit. I took the highest seat I didn't wait until the 
 master said, ' Friend, go up higher.' I have had a 
 lesson I have had a lesson." 
 
 Unmindful of any thing Mr. Hamilton could say, the 
 Deacon left the room. The old horse stood patiently in 
 front of the door, and muttering to himself Deacon Knapp 
 untied him and clambered into the old sleigh. He had 
 made an appointment to meet Eph. at the tavern, and he 
 saw him standing by the bar room window, but the old man 
 never pulled rein. Eph. rushed out, but the sleigh and 
 driver disappeared in the direction of the farm. 
 
 " S'pect the old man's got a flea in his ear. God bless 
 my soul ! " he exclaimed in a voice which startled the 
 loungers in the tavern. " Glory, glory Hallelujah ! if thar 
 ain't Ned Mason himself." 
 
 The man's delight was touching. He laughed, he cried,
 
 164 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 he danced with joy. He asked Edward the same question 
 over and over again, never awaiting for the reply. Edward 
 was turned round and round, felt, examined, punched and 
 slapped on the back until his breath was almost gone. The 
 idlers at the tavern had all turned out to add their con- 
 gratulations, and satisfy their curiosity, by listening to the 
 story whatever it might be. But Eph. was too jealous of his 
 friend to allow any partnership in this first meeting. He 
 drew Edward forcibly away, turning a deaf ear to all 
 inducements of taking something just for luck. 
 
 " Well, well," he said impatiently, when they had almost 
 reached the parsonage, " hain't yere got any thing to say 
 to a fellow, now you've come back safe and sound. I've 
 been doing more cussing on your account than forty 
 parsons 'd be able to pray away in a month of Sundays. 
 How did they treat you, and how did you get away ? 
 That's what I want to know." 
 
 " Well, Eph. old boy," said Edward kindly pressing the 
 arm of the warm-hearted young man, " you do not give a 
 man much of a chance when you start to do the talking. 
 How did they treat me ? As well as could be expected. 
 Shut up in one of the casemates in the Citadel of Quebec ; 
 and as to how I got away as soon as our government 
 agreed to an exchange of prisoners, I was released on 
 parole, not to serve until exchanged." 
 
 " Do tell now," continued Eph. ; " you always was lucky, 
 Ned, that's a fact. And have you got your exchange 
 papers all right, and when is you going back ? " 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton has arranged my exchange, and besides 
 has had me appointed on the staff of General Brown, who 
 commands on the New York line."
 
 "THE WORD IN SEASON: 165 
 
 " Oh, he has, has he," replied Eph. in so dry a tone, so 
 utterly unlike the one which he usually used, that it caused 
 Edward to glance at him in surprise. Eph.'s face told 
 nothing. His look was fastened obstinately on the ground, 
 and Edward went on. 
 
 " Yes, I am very fortunate in getting the appointment. 
 General Brown is said by every one to be the rising man 
 on our side, and this is a big step up in the line of pro- 
 motion. Will you go back with me to the army, or have 
 you had enough of soldiering?" 
 
 "I'll see, I'll see. So Mr. Hamilton got this here 
 appointment for ye, did he ? How long do you stay to 
 home ? " he asked in the same dry tone. 
 
 " Not more than two or three days, at the most. Just 
 long enough to make it hard to leave the dear friends again. 
 But such is fate." 
 
 " How did Mr. Hamilton know you was going to gel- 
 out, and when did he get you this appointment ? " queried 
 Eph. 
 
 " Oh, I don't know," -said Edward carelessly. "You are 
 as curious as an old woman." 
 
 "May be I am, "retorted Eph. doggedly, "and then again 
 may be I ain't. Prehaps I can see as far into a millstone 
 as any one else. What makes Mr. Hamilton take such an 
 interest all of a sudden in you Ned ? He ain't no kin of 
 yours, like ? " 
 
 " Not that I know of," said the other stopping and 
 looking his friend straight in the face. 
 
 " Come, Eph., out with it. I know you of old. What 
 is it you've got to say. Speak it out like a man." 
 
 Eph. hesitated. He was sincere in his love for Ed-
 
 1 66 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 ward, and his cautious Yankee nature made him anxious 
 not to place himself in bad relationship with so powerful a 
 man as Mr. Hamilton. Besides, after all, it was but suspi- 
 cion. These thoughts ran through his mind, and were 
 seen by Edward's clear eyes, almost plainly written on his 
 face. He took Eph. firmly by the arm, and said earnestly 
 
 " See here, my boy, you and I have been friends ever 
 since we were knee high. Something has happened which 
 I ought to know. What is it ? Don't try and put me off. 
 I can read it in your face. Now like a simple, manly fel- 
 low, as you are, tell me all." 
 
 Thus questioned, after a moment's twisting and turn- 
 ing, Eph. gave way, and in his quaint manner told Edward 
 his suspicion of Mr. Hamilton's devotion to Sibyl, and of 
 Mrs. Spencer's evident match-making aspirations. To do 
 him justice, he softened rather than increased the few 
 facts he had to tell, and spoke only of Sibyl, as in his 
 opinion, still being warmly in love with Edward. Place 
 them as he would, there was enough to rouse all the jeal- 
 ousy of Edward's nature, and he ground his teeth and 
 stamped his foot with anger. 
 
 " See now," said Eph., in his turn, laying a restraining 
 hand on the fiery young man, " don't you go and make 
 a fool of yourself. Sibyl's all right, I can tell you ; just 
 you have a talk with her ; she's a mighty sensible gal, our 
 Sibyl is, I can tell you. And more than that, it's a mighty 
 nice thing to have a man like the Squire push you ahead 
 as he does, I can tell you." 
 
 " He ! he ! " said Edward savagely. 
 
 " That's all very well. He ain't to blame neither. It's 
 all the old woman's doing. With her high and mighty air
 
 "THE WORD IN SEASON." 167 
 
 as if there wasn't folks good enough for her to be had in 
 the village." 
 
 There was something of a pause. Edward evidently had 
 not heard a word of the last few sentences the man had 
 said. He was standing kicking his foot against a piece of 
 ice, his eyes fastened on the ground, and his lips moving as 
 if talking to himself. He was evidently in great mental pain 
 as well as in anger. 
 
 " See here now, Ned," said Eph., enforcing his remarks 
 with a slap to attract the other's attention, "yere ain't 
 come back with much money in your pockets, I suspect, 
 has yere ? " 
 
 Edward smiled bitterly. 
 
 " I never was what the world or Mrs. Spencer would 
 
 ,. 
 
 call a good match ; and this war, in destroying almost all 
 the little property I ever had, has not made me a better one. 
 Why, man, I haven't got ten dollars in the world ! " 
 
 " You haven't lost the old farm, have you ? " asked 
 Eph., anxiously pointing his thumb in the direction it was 
 supposed to lie. " I have got," he went on to say in low, 
 hesitating tones, " just about one thousand dollars lying 
 loose. I'd take it kindly, Ned, if you'd take it and invest 
 it for me. You can pay me interest on it while in your 
 hands. You see," he continued, interrupting Edward as 
 he was about speaking, " I am pretty good at a trade, but 
 when it comes to laying out money, I ain't had education 
 enough ; do you see, now ? " 
 
 "You are a good fellow, Eph., and if I want money, I 
 would rather take it from you than from anybody else." 
 As he said this he turned to enter the house. 
 
 " Just see, now," said Eph., detaining him. " If you
 
 1 68 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 would feel any better you can give me your note. Or Ned, 
 you might make it a mortgage on the farm. It must be 
 worth more than a thousand dollars, even in these times ; 
 ain't it, now ? " 
 
 Edward smiled at this evidence of cautious affection 
 on the man's part, and nodding to him entered the house. 
 Eph. at first made a motion as if to follow. Then paused 
 and muttered in a low tone 
 
 "Guess I'd better go look after the old man. Them 
 folks at the tavern may have understood me to have opened 
 an account for him to-day. If that's so, and I get off for 
 ten York shillings, I am lucky.
 
 CHAPTER XV. 
 
 A LOVER'S QUARREL. 
 
 " Dare to be true, nothing can need a lie ; 
 A fault which needs it most grows two thereby." 
 
 HERBERT. 
 
 HE Deacon had gotten into his sleigh with a 
 dogged expression of determination on his face, 
 which boded ill for any peacefu-1 interview with 
 Mr. Hamilton. Mrs. Griswold had made no at- 
 tempt to dissuade him from going. She knew his character, 
 and that opposition and entreaty would be alike unavailing. 
 To let Sibyl be attacked while she remained silent was to 
 Sally Griswold impossible. She called the hired man, 
 and bade him drive her to the village, and before she had 
 made up her mind as to what she would do, she was in 
 Sibyl's presence. The quick-witted woman saw at once 
 that something unusual had occurred. The eye, which 
 had been so sad and heavy, now shone with recovered 
 light. The step, so listless and languid, was now firm and 
 elastic. The very atmosphere in which Sibyl moved, 
 seemed changed ; it needed not the happy words of greet- 
 ing to tell the story that. Edward Mason had returned. 
 What an astonishing alteration a few short hours had 
 made ! With what deep interest were the hundred little 
 
 trifles of domestic life inquired into ! Then the baby for 
 (169)
 
 170 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 the little fellow never left his mother ; how many teeth 
 had he ; how he had grown ; when had she heard from his 
 father ? Oh, she was so happy, Sibyl thought this world 
 was paradise itself ! 
 
 " Just think, Sally, how more than kind Mr. Hamilton 
 has been. He not only arranged for Edward's immediate 
 exchange, but obtained for him this leave of absence ; no 
 small favor, let me tell you, and has added to it all by 
 having him appointed on the staff of General Brown." 
 
 Why was it that this eternal recurrence to Mr. Hamil- 
 ton grated on Mrs. Griswold's feelings ! She had felt 
 indignant that morning at her father and Eph., now, she 
 did not know why, but somehow, she shared their feelings. 
 
 " Sibyl, dear " Sally hesitated how she should say the 
 thoughts which came into her head. " Sibyl, dear, are you 
 not very intimate with Mr. Hamilton ? " 
 
 " Why, of course we are, you foolish child. He is the 
 kindest, dearest, best friend a person ever had. What 
 father would have done without him these long weary 
 months no one can tell ! " 
 
 " You know, Sibyl, how very, very fond I am of you ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " You won't be angry if I say something to you, will 
 you ? " 
 
 " Angry, why should I ? of course not. What is it ? " 
 
 " I wouldn't hurt your feelings for all the world, Sibyl, 
 dear. There is no one I love so much as you except 
 father and Sam. and and the baby, you know." 
 
 " Now, Sally, what is it ? " said Sibyl, laughing. " What 
 awful idea has that stupid little head of yours got in it ? 
 What have all the old women in the village been saying ?
 
 A LOVER S QUARREL. I 7 1 
 
 Do not hesitate, I can see in your eyes that I am right. 
 Am I not ? " 
 
 " Yes." 
 
 " And because the man of all others my father most 
 loves and respects, does an hundred little acts of kindness 
 to that old friend and his family, you you the playmate 
 and companion of my girlhood, believe me capable of for- 
 getting my plighted word believe that I would be false 
 to my love, my life. Oh, Sally ! " 
 
 " No, no. Sibyl, I did not believe any thing of the kind. 
 It was only that people will talk, and then I was so afraid 
 it might get to his ears, you know. That I that I " 
 
 " That you thought you would come and tell me your- 
 self. And was that kind ? Listen to me, Sally. All the 
 time Sam. was away, I mean before you were married, 
 when you used to change as often as an April day. At 
 one time coming here and setting by this fire for hours, si- 
 lent, with the big tears in your eyes, dying to tell, and yet 
 keeping it like a true woman to yourself. And then the 
 next day dancing and coquetting with any man you met at 
 any frolic in the neighborhood. Suppose now I had gone 
 to you and told you all the idle gossip that floats in a Con- 
 necticut village ; what would you have said to me, Sally ? " 
 
 " Oh, Sibyl, don't speak to me so. Please don't." 
 
 " Well, but listen to me, Sally, I am not half through 
 yet. You loved Sam as well, perhaps, as I love Edward ; 
 but you had never told him so. You had never promised 
 before the world to be his wife." 
 
 " But suppose these things get to Edward's ears, dear 
 Sibyl men are so jealous ? " 
 
 " Is woman's faith so trifling a thing ? Are trust and
 
 172 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 confidence and belief in the woman he is about to make 
 his wife as nothing, think you, in his eyes ? Do you doubt 
 your husband, even though he be separated from you ? " 
 
 " No ; of course not. But men are so different from 
 us, Sibyl. I do not know how it is, but they seem to ex- 
 pect every thing and give nothing. Please don't be angry 
 with me, Sibyl. It would break my heart to have you cold 
 or angry with me. I wish I had never said a word to you 
 about this, I do ! " 
 
 " Angry with you ? Of course I am not angry with 
 you, Sally, you foolish child. I am very glad you told me 
 what you did. ' Trifles light as air ' become strong proofs 
 sometimes. There has not been a thought or word or ac- 
 tion which the whole world might not have seen or heard 
 or known. I hid my love for him ; what maidenly woman 
 does not hide her love until she has been asked ? But 
 now I glory in showing to the world that the man who is to 
 be my husband, has my every hope, and thought, and wish, 
 and fear. I love him next to my God. I sometimes think 
 I love him better. Ah me ! God forgive me, if it is so, 
 for I cannot help it ! " 
 
 It would have required a much more obdurate heart 
 than that of Sally Griswold not to have been fully con- 
 vinced of the idle character of her own suspicions. There 
 was but one course left her woman's unfailing remedy in 
 all ills and woes. She cried. And Sibyl cried too. 
 While they were enjoying what might well be called this 
 " luxury of woe," Edward walked into the room. His 
 quick eye took in the scene at once. Nor did it tend to 
 decrease the feeling of growing jealousy, which Eph.'s un- 
 lucky words had fanned into a blaze. Yet at what had he
 
 A LOVER S QUARREL. 173 
 
 a right to feel even the premonitory symptoms of jealousy ? 
 Did not Sibyl's every changing thought, which chased each 
 other across her speaking face, proclaim he was their sole 
 object ? Was not every movement redolent of love ? Did 
 not those deep, pure, brown eyes meet his with all the in- 
 nocent delight of a woman's loving nature ? All this he 
 admitted all this and more. And yet he was jealous. 
 
 Mrs. Griswold was naturally anxious to learn the story 
 of trial and imprisonment through which he had passed, 
 and her continued questioning did not tend to allay the 
 irritation under which he labored. 
 
 Sibyl endeavored to meet and parry this petty exhibi- 
 tion of temper, as any other woman would have done, but, 
 it must be confessed, with but little success. It was an 
 intense relief to her when her friend took her departure, 
 and they two were left to themselves. Yet mingled with 
 this regret at Edward's temper, there was in Sibyl's heart 
 a feeling of pleasure. You cannot reason about it. That 
 strange complex creation, the human heart, always finds a 
 certain pleasure in being the object of a jealous passion, 
 however unfounded or ridiculous. As Edward stood there, 
 his back against the fire, his handsome face, dark and 
 troubled, his eyes seeking yet shunning those which were 
 upraised to his, there went through Sibyl's heart a thrill 
 which she would not have been a woman not to have glo- 
 ried in 
 
 "Edward!" 
 
 "Well!" 
 
 The word was harshly spoken. Sibyl's eyes filled at 
 once. Edward bit his lips to avoid showing the self-irrita- 
 tion he felt at having so spoken.
 
 174 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " What is it, dear ? What is it you wish to say ? " 
 
 Edward had made an effort, but the true ring was not 
 yet in the words. 
 
 " In what way have I annoyed or pained you, that you 
 look at me so ? " 
 
 " How do I look ? This is childish, Sibyl. A man 
 can't keep his face eternally in a broad grin." 
 
 " Have I offended you, Edward ? " 
 
 " Offended me ? How should you of all persons offend 
 me ? You are mistress of your own actions." 
 
 " No, dear, I am not. I am not my own mistress, and 
 you know it." 
 
 " I ! How should I know it ? And who is, pray ? " 
 
 " You ! you are. Of thoughts, of words, of actions, of 
 life itself." 
 
 Edward turned away, and his laugh stung Sibyl by the 
 latent sneer which lurked in it. 
 
 " No, dear, you sha'n't turn away. I am not going to 
 sacrifice life's happiness even to avoid a sneer. I ask again, 
 how have I offended you ? " 
 
 " And I say again O Sibyl ! why, why have you ceased 
 to love me ? " 
 
 " Ceased to love you, Edward. Why my whole soul is 
 yours. Who says such a thing ? Who has dared to throw 
 out such an insinuation ? " 
 
 Edward turned suddenly and drew a chair close to 
 the one on which she was sitting, and taking one of her 
 hands, said : 
 
 " Sibyl, hear me. I make no charge, I bring no accusa- 
 tion. When you accepted me for your husband, you knew 
 I was poor. You knew I had nothing to offer you except
 
 A LOVER S QUARREL. I 75 
 
 what I could wring from the world in the hard struggle of 
 a professional life. Should I escape the dangers incident 
 to the service I am now in, it will be only to commence 
 again at the very lowest round of the ladder." 
 
 "Do I ask for more, dear," said Sibyl, laying her 
 other hand lovingly on his. " If there are hardships, I 
 will share them, if by so doing I can but cheer or comfort 
 you in the struggle. I can say like Ruth of old, 'thy 
 people shall be my people/ yes, and ' thy God my God. ' ' 
 
 There was such simple trust and love in the accent of 
 the woman, that not to believe her was impossible, and 
 yet 
 
 " Listen to me, Edward," Sibyl said, still fondly holding 
 the hand she had clasped. " I know what has brought on this 
 feeling, this jealousy, for it is nothing but that. You think, 
 no, you do not think, but you have heard from some foolish, 
 meddlesome person, that I was looking regretfully at the 
 ' flesh-pots of Egypt.' Is it not so ? I thought so, dear. 
 Now, listen to me. There are moments when a woman is 
 justified in speaking, even if she betrays the secrets of an- 
 other. This is one of them. All this money, this position, 
 this station in the world could have been mine. It was 
 offered me before you asked me to be your wife." 
 
 " I know Sibyl, I remember." 
 
 " Stop, dear. Hear me through, Edward, patiently, 
 kindly, lovingly. Oh, my heart yearns so for your love ! 
 But there is a point, dear, beyond which the most loving 
 woman's nature cannot pass. No woman, no true woman 
 worthy of being an honest man's wife, can forfeit her self- 
 respect. Family, wealth, position, all these are as nothing. 
 God's own decree is, ' Ye twain shall be one.' Your
 
 176 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 plaything, your toy, I cannot be. I give you all, for I de- 
 mand all. My trust is as boundless as my love. I de- 
 mand the same." 
 
 The girl's face had become radiant as she spoke. Her 
 whole heart looked out of her eyes. Those great, deep, 
 soul-lit eyes. How contemptibly small he felt in the pres- 
 ence of such a character. As if any doubt could exist where 
 such love was. He had said nothing, but his face had told 
 all. A thrill of pride ran through Sibyl, as she raised the 
 hand she still held and pressed it to her lips. The heart, 
 unspoken, had asked for pardon, and it had been sealed 
 by a kiss. 
 
 How long they sat thus hand locked in hand, they 
 knew not. In after years one of the two would recall this 
 hour, the deepest, brightest, softest in their young lives. 
 It seemed almost a crime, when the door opened and Mr. 
 Hamilton walked into the room. He rested his elbow on 
 the mantel and looked at the two young people with an 
 amused smile. 
 
 " I have passed the time of life, Ned, my boy," he said, 
 " when a man thinks it a shame to have loved a woman. 
 Have loved, did I say to still love." 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Hamilton," broke in Sibyl, the hot blood 
 rushing tumultuously to every feature, " how can you 
 say" 
 
 " How can I say what, my child ? That I love you ?" 
 There was a tinge of sadness in the voice. It was the 
 only homage he paid to that power which has bound 
 the necks of the mighty of this earth. "The idle gossip 
 of a New England village has spread it to the four 
 winds of heaven. Had that been all, it would have been
 
 A LOVERS QUARREL. 177 
 
 but as the idle wind. But it is not all. These same tongues 
 have dared to couple Arthur Hamilton's name with actions 
 which, only to have dreamed of, would have been dis- 
 honor. Listen to me. To leave the army now, Edward, 
 were to forswear the blood you came from. You cannot 
 put your hand to the plough and look back. Trust this 
 girl, during your absence, to my care. Surely " a merry 
 smile ran across his features " a young knight does not 
 fear a weather-beaten, worn-out veteran as a rival in any 
 love passage. And you, Sibyl," he took her hand, " may 
 I not be a brother, a kind, a loving, an elder brother ! 
 There, I thought so. Now we can face even the redoubt- 
 able Deacon Knapp." 
 
 It was strange the power which this man wielded. Ed- 
 ward was angry. He was hurt sorely in man's tenderest 
 feelings, in his empire, as he had thought, over the woman 
 he loved. And with it all, it needed but a bright glance of 
 the eye, one warm grasp of a hand he felt was honest and 
 true and manly, and his suspicions had melted into thin 
 air. 
 
 Edward had his preparations to make for his departure. 
 His leave only extended for ten days, and such was the 
 difficulty of travelling in those times, that more than half 
 had already been expended. Although angry at Eph., 
 whose insinuations had raised all the tumult in his breast, 
 Edward was still too well aware of the dog-like fidelity of 
 the man, and of the deep, earnest affection he treasured for 
 him, not to desire he should again be his companion. He 
 therefore sought him out, and after some preliminary fenc- 
 ing, asked the blunt question 
 
 " What made you think Sibyl had jilted me, Eph. ? "
 
 178 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " What say ? " responded the other, his face assuming at 
 once the want of expression of a wooden image. 
 
 Edward bit his lips. He saw his mistake. The ques- 
 tion had been too abrupt. " You were telling me, Eph., 
 this morning," said Edward, carelessly throwing his leg 
 over the arm of a chair. They were in the bar room of the 
 village tavern. " You said, I think this morning, that you 
 thought the Squire had not fully gotten over his feeling 
 for our Sibyl." 
 
 There was something very tempting to Eph. in the way 
 this was put. It identified him at once with the family, 
 and it paid a silent and therefore none the less appreciated 
 compliment to his sagacity. 
 
 " I disremember, Ned, saying any thing so bold of my 
 neighbors." 
 
 " Well, perhaps it was not said in exactly that language ; 
 but you thought you would put me on my guard." 
 
 " Guard ! " said Eph., " was there any thing to guard 
 against ? " 
 
 " Confound the fellow ! " muttered Edward. " See here, 
 Eph., you and I are friends of long standing. I can speak 
 with you as I could not with any other man. I have had 
 a talk with Hamilton, and he is a noble, high-toned gentle- 
 man." 
 
 " So." 
 
 " And I am indebted to him for more favors than I can 
 tell. He has obtained for me a place on the staff." 
 
 "Jistso." 
 
 " Look here, once for all ; are you going back to the 
 army with me on Friday, or are you not ? " Edward's tone 
 was angry, and his face had flushed.
 
 A LOVER S QUARREL. I 79 
 
 Eph. had assumed the same attitude which Edward had 
 relinquished. 
 
 " There's no use in you're getting your dander up with 
 me, Ed. There's no more fight in me than in a dunghill 
 cock, where you're consarned. I have thought the matter 
 over a bit, and the next time Ephraim Dodge puts his 
 fingers betwixt a pair of scissors, you can tell him of it, 
 you can." 
 
 Any anger Edward may have felt disappeared in the 
 hearty burst of laughter which Eph.'s frank confession called 
 forth. 
 
 It was with a sigh of intense relief that Eph. slowly 
 raised himself from his chair, and faced the now smiling 
 young man. 
 
 " You ax me if I's going back with you ? In course 
 I am ; and the day you are wiped out " he made a long 
 pause, his eyes twinkled with suppressed fun as he 
 chuckled rather than said 
 
 " 'Twould have done your heart good, Ned, had you seen 
 the Deacon, jist for all nature sich another darned fool as 
 I be. He sot before him the task of speaking the ' word 
 in season ' to the Squire. He wasn't gone more nor half 
 an hour. I was to meet him on the piazza, here. Lord, 
 how he did quilt the old horse as he went by here. He 
 looked neither to the right hand nor to the left. I knows 
 you're temperate, but on this ' propetious occasion,' as they 
 say on the Fourth of July, Billy," addressing himself to the 
 innkeeper, "jist you make the Captain and I two of the 
 hottest and stiffest glasses of Jamaica you ever made in 
 your life. Now Ed., let's call this quits."
 
 CHAPTER XVI. 
 
 THE HUDSON. 
 
 " The gales that rush o'er hills of snow 
 The ruddy cheek of health bestow ; 
 To manly firmness brace the nerve, 
 And mental purity preserve." OLD SONG. 
 
 LOW range of mountains divides the western 
 part of Connecticut from the Hudson River. 
 These are, in fact, a prolongation of the Green 
 Mountains of Vermont, and although not by any 
 means so lofty, resemble them in general outline. The road 
 
 from D led Mason and his companion by a succession 
 
 of valleys, winding in and out among the hills, and past 
 numerous little lakes, which glittered blue and cold in the 
 winter sunlight. Their first day's ride brought them to 
 the little village of South-East, on the borders of the Croton, 
 then a rushing, brawling mountain stream. As the tired 
 horse plunged his nostrils in the clear water, Mason little 
 thought, a few short years, and this same river would be 
 feeding the necessities of the metropolis of the western 
 world. 
 
 Evening had closed in as the two men reached the vil- 
 (180)
 
 THE HUDSON. l8l 
 
 lage of Fishkill Landing, and it was with a sense of in- 
 tense enjoyment that Edward sat down by the bright fire 
 in the bar room of the old " Star Inn." His happiness 
 was, however, of short duration ; the ever-inquiring mind of 
 Eph. had discovered the fact that the intense coldness of 
 the night was likely to close the river, and that travel might 
 necessarily be suspended for several days. 
 
 " Come out here, Ned, and look for yourself," said 
 Eph., dragging Edward by the arm on to the piazza which 
 ran along the front of the inn. A strong north-west wind 
 was blowing, and the black scud at times hid the face of 
 the mountains, which lay cold and dark in the moonlight. 
 
 Edward was fascinated by the scene. The broad river 
 was dotted by specks of white, as the foam of the dashing 
 waves sparkled and glittered like silver. Immediately in 
 front of him rose the rough barrier of old " Butter Hill," 
 and away off to the right he could trace the faint outline of 
 the " Shawangunk," the outpost or sentry, as it were, of 
 the mighty range of the Alleghanies. How insignificant 
 were the petty quarrels of even nations, as compared with 
 the gigantic efforts of nature ! Where was man when this 
 inland sea had burst its way through these " Everlasting 
 Mounds," in its struggle to reach the ocean ? And what 
 was his or any mortal intellect, to the " Great Unknown," 
 who held them prisoners in the hollow of his hand. Even 
 Eph.'s prosaic nature was moved. 
 
 " Isn't it beautiful ! " he said. "Just what I call 'pic- 
 terskeu.' Wouldn't the old man go mad over this 'ere 
 place. But this don't get us to Newburg." 
 
 " Why can't we stay here all night, and cross comfortably 
 by .daylight ? " asked Edward.
 
 1 82 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " Plain as the nose on your face, if ye'll only think. 
 When this wind goes down, the ice will form faster than a 
 horse can trot. There's an old fellow down here as has 
 run this ferry twenty years and better ; he says, says he, 
 ' if your bound to get over, now's your time.' 'Tain't nothing 
 to me. I ain't on duty, but I kinder think as how you'd 
 like to get forrard.' " 
 
 " Of course I would. Make the best bargain you can 
 Eph., I leave it all to you." 
 
 " I've got the old man down to twenty York shillings," 
 replied Eph., " and it kinder goes agin the grain to specu- 
 late further. It's true, I told him I'd help him with the 
 oars myself, and that you were kinder light, and didn't 
 count for much. Der ye see." 
 
 Edward laughed as he went back into the warm room 
 and began making preparations for the trip. The boat, a 
 broad fishing skiff, capable of holding ten men, was drawn 
 up under the lee of the low dock, over which the spray 
 broke, freezing as it fell, until its timbers were incrusted 
 with ice. It was with difficulty that the two men forced 
 the boat through the broken fragments of ice, which wind 
 and tide had cast on the shore, and for some moments it 
 was doubtful if they could reach the dark water beyond. 
 What Eph. lacked in nautical skill, he made up in hearty 
 good-will, and the tough ash oar bent under his efforts. 
 The cold was intense; although still in December, the 
 winter had begun severely, and the masses of floating ice 
 were so solid as to defy any attempts to break through 
 them. 
 
 " It's worse than I thought," said the old fisherman, as 
 he rested for a moment to dry the freezing spray which
 
 THE HUDSON. 183 
 
 clung to his grizzled beard. " We're hardly off the flats 
 yet, and hain't got the full force of the tide. When the 
 tide's three-quarters ebb, we always get it worse on the 
 Nevvburg side. It stands to reason, as the water's deep- 
 er, de yer see." 
 
 Utterly helpless, Edward could only cower down in the 
 stern and seek for warmth in the wrappings with which he 
 was provided. Yet there was something inexpressibly 
 magnificent in the scene. The boat was so low that the 
 outline of the shore was lost in the dashing spray, and it 
 appeared as if they were driving aimlessly in a waste of 
 water. As he turned his eyes to the south, the amphi- 
 theatre of hills rose dark and threatening in the moon- 
 light, bringing into relief the granite walls, bare and naked 
 a thousand feet above the level of the tide. Every out- 
 line in the mountains was distinct ; a soft haze lay in the 
 valley, which, like morning mist, at intervals was swept 
 away by the wind, and showed the ridges, the lower hills 
 and the shadowy forms of other hills, as they rose one 
 after another in endless succession. It almost seemed as 
 if the Dutch legend, of the Herr of the Dunderberg, was 
 about to be realized and he was asserting his supremacy 
 over wind and tide. The silence, which had lasted some 
 minutes, was broken by the old fisherman, who had noticed 
 'Eph.'s' labored breathing, as he tugged resolutely at his 
 oar. 
 
 " There's no use of your bursting yourself. You ain't 
 much at a pull, although you're mighty willing like. We're 
 in for a good two hours' pull, anyhow." The old man 
 stopped speaking and scanned the horizon closely. 
 
 " tt was a tempting of Providence when we started.
 
 , 184 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 But twenty York shillings ain't to be made so easy like, 
 nowadays. And I've got them little children to take care 
 of, anyhow." The old man spoke in a sad, low tone, so 
 that his words could hardly be heard by the listeners in 
 the boat, both of whom were struck, however, by the anx- 
 iety displayed in his manner. 
 
 The river at the point where they were making this 
 passage is rather more than a mile in width. The strength 
 of the wind, joined to the fact of the tide being ebb, had 
 drifted the boat more than two miles down the stream, 
 although not more than two thirds of the distance had 
 been accomplished. The reason the fisherman had so 
 closely studied the horizon was soon evident to bo'th the 
 other men. The outline of a large field of ice, which was 
 rapidly drifting down on them, could now be clearly seen. 
 The set of the current threw this mass, which must have 
 covered several acres in extent, between them and the 
 shore, and it was obvious that to pass it they must head 
 due north, up the river. The wind, as is generally the 
 case about the turn of the tide, had, in a great degree, 
 died away, but this rather increased than diminished their 
 danger, as it permitted the formation of ice which, even 
 in the few minutes in which this scene had occurred, sen- 
 sibly retarded the boat. 
 
 Edward, prevented by his position in the skiff from 
 any active exertion, felt his faculties becoming rapidly 
 benumbed by the intense cold. Their situation was peril- 
 ous in the extreme, and he was obliged, for the sake of 
 momentary warmth, to have recourse to a flask of spirits. 
 The old man shook his head. 
 
 " If you once begin you've got ,to go on. But I sup-
 
 THE HUDSON. 185 
 
 pose it can't be helped ; you're not accustomed to the cold 
 like I is." The words came out in jerks, for the man was 
 laboring as severely as Eph., and despite the difficulties 
 in their way, the boat was making rapid progress. 
 
 The dangerous field was passed, and again the boat 
 was headed obliquely for the western shore. Perfect still- 
 ness was kept, only broken by the labored breathing of 
 the rowers, when suddenly the fisherman leaned forward 
 and violently shook Edward. He had fallen asleep, and 
 to sleep now might be to wake no more. The effort 
 which the young man made to struggle to his feet almost 
 upset the boat. 
 
 " My God ! " exclaimed Eph., " something's got to be 
 done, or Ed. '11 die." 
 
 " You've called on the right name young man. He's 
 the only one as can help us. Look there," and he pointed 
 to the dark outline of another ice field, which, unnoticed 
 in their violent exertions, was almost on them. The tide 
 had turned, but the wash of the waves still urged it for- 
 ward ; its vast extent placed the boat in still water ; the 
 effect was almost immediately felt, the ice formed so rapidly 
 that it was with extreme difficulty they reached the edge 
 of the field. Further progress was impossible. Edward 
 had again sunk back into the stern sheets, the stupor of 
 death was slowly creeping over mind and body. 
 
 " 'Twas the drink as done it ; I knowed it when I saw 
 him take the damned stuff ; the Lord forgive me cursing 
 in this our peril." He searched with trembling hands as 
 he spoke, for the fatal flask. 
 
 "We must pour it down him now. It's our only 
 hope."
 
 1 86 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " Don't stand there a-doing nothing," said Eph., as he 
 made an attempt to spring on the ice, " Let's take him 
 atween us. I see lights thar, perhaps we may make them 
 hear us. It's our only chance of a-saving of Ned." 
 
 " Stop, stop ! " cried the old man, clutching at the skirts 
 of his coat. " Don't be overventuresome." 
 
 He took as he spoke an oar in his hand and struck the 
 shaft violently against the ice. A report almost like a pis- 
 tol followed, as a long crack ran up the river. 
 
 " 'Twill bear ye. If the stick goes through you're sartin 
 to go through, sooner or later." 
 
 As he was speaking Eph. had scrambled on the ice, and 
 was stamping his feet, and thrashing with his arms to re- 
 store circulation. 
 
 " Come," he said, " let us take him atween us. We may 
 make the shore ; it's our only chance." 
 
 " No ; it can't be did. I'm old. My babies, my poor 
 babies, and Willie, their daddy, is away at the war. God's 
 will be done." 
 
 " Rouse yourself, old man, rouse yourself," said Eph., 
 shaking him by the coat, for the deadly cold was creeping 
 over the tough old weather-beaten fisherman. 
 
 " My son," he laid his hand almost tenderly in that of 
 Eph.'s, " this here boy is gone. Leave the old and use- 
 less to perish. Take an oar, and keep it across ye, 'twill 
 hold ye up if ye fall in." 
 
 " What ! and leave you and Ned to perish," shouted 
 Eph. " If I do I'll be " 
 
 " Go, go," muttered the old man. " I must sleep, or I 
 shall die." 
 
 The wind had entirely died away, and Eph. thought he
 
 THE HUDSON. 1 87 
 
 could hear the faint sound of voices on the shore. What 
 should he do ? He was alone, absolutely alone. The 
 bright December moon shone down clear and cold, bring- 
 ing out the outlines of the mountains, which seemed to 
 slumber in their shadows in perfect stillness. 
 
 Divesting himself of his outer coat, he wrapped it ten- 
 derly around Edward, and after a vain effort to force 
 spirits down their throats, which the fisherman only re- 
 sisted Edward was too far sunk in stupor to feel any- 
 thing he took the flask with the muttered exclamation, 
 " 'Twon't help them, and it may me. I suppose I must do 
 it. It's durn mean, but it's the only thing. Thank the 
 Lord ! if he goes, I goes with him." 
 
 He took the oar in his hand and turned towards the 
 shore. Some imperceptible set of the current had caused 
 the field of ice to drift in that direction, and Eph. was 
 not more than a hundred yards from the land when he had 
 crossed the ice. He shouted at the top of his voice, again 
 and again, and to his intense joy, his cries were answered. 
 
 The united exertions of four strong men soon brought a 
 boat to the place where Edward and the fisherman lay 
 slumbering. It required all the care and attention of the 
 new-comers to restore sufficient circulation to enable them 
 to be half led half carried into the nearest house. 
 
 The severity of the cold only lasted a few hours, and on 
 the second day, as Edward stood sunning himself on the 
 bank, watching the deep, silent river, and the soft haze 
 which seemed to float over every feature of the landscape, 
 he had difficulty in believing the incident had not been 
 some horrible nightmare. 
 
 The rest of their journey passed without any thinj
 
 I 88 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 worthy of note, and it was on the morning of the fourth day 
 that the stage deposited them in the little village of 
 Sackett's Harbor. Edward instantly made his way to the 
 head-quarters of the General, and giving his name was 
 ushered into a good-sized apartment, half bedroom half 
 office. A bright fire was burning, and at a table drawn 
 close to its blaze sat an officer busily writing. He did not 
 raise his head as Edward entered, but in a quiet tone of 
 voice asked him to be seated. Edward had an opportu- 
 nity to study the air and appearance of his new commander. 
 
 General Jacob Brown was then just coming into notice. 
 Taken, as was said of him, " like Cincinnatus from the 
 plough," he seemed to possess naturally every attribute of 
 a commander. Tall and powerfully built, his face, without 
 being handsome, was attractive and pleasing. His eyes 
 were large and dark, and when he smiled, the charm of his 
 manner was irresistible. What surprised Edward most was 
 the familiarity which the air and features of this officer 
 seemed to have to him. Where had he met him before ? 
 As he was racking his brain to find an answer, the General 
 folded up the paper he had been writing, and handed it to 
 a soldier in attendance, and turning to Edward, said with a 
 smile, 
 
 " Ah, my young friend, this is not so romantic as sail- 
 ing by moonlight on the Hudson." 
 
 It came back to him like a flash. He was the charming 
 companion of his first voyage up the Hudson river. 
 
 " I never forget a man," continued the General, " and 
 you struck me at once as one likely to do his duty. It did 
 not need Hamilton's repeated letters in your favor to make 
 me ask for you when I was in a position to give you
 
 THE HUDSON.. 189 
 
 proper employment. Go now and get thee something to 
 eat. Thee must be tired. Thee has had quarters assigned 
 thee in this house. In an hour more I would like to talk 
 with thee." 
 
 Edward found his companions on the staff agreeable, 
 pleasant young men, but there was what he had never seen 
 before during his service as a soldier,. an intense application 
 to duty. Although in all respects courteous to their new 
 comrade, and anxious to hear the news from the outside 
 world, but a few moments could be given to conversation, 
 and Edward was soon in the presence of the General. 
 
 General Brown motioned to Edward to draw a chair 
 up to the fire. 
 
 " Captain Mason, the chief of my staff, which you now 
 are, must be my inner self think, feel, and act as I do. 
 In three words, we are expected to hold, with utterly in- 
 adequate means, perhaps the most important post on this 
 frontier. Our force, mostly militia, whose term of service 
 will expire in a few days. A few regulars, the nucleus of 
 something better, I trust. The army proper, scattered and 
 dispersed to the four winds. At such a time as this, infor- 
 mation is more precious than gold." 
 
 He paused and looked into the fire. At length he went 
 on 
 
 " In sheer madness, Armstrong,the secretary at war, has 
 ordered an indefensible village on the Canada side to be 
 burned, and hundreds of poor wretches are turned house- 
 less to the mercy of a Canada winter. Of course the 
 British will retaliate, and when will they strike this place ? 
 To-morrow morning at daylight a boat and crew will be 
 ready. Somewhere among the western islands, you will
 
 IQO SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 meet with a spy. Thee has got to find him out thyself. 
 I can give thee no clue. Keep your own counsel, even 
 from the officer in charge of the boat. Do not run into 
 needless danger, but bring me back, if thee can, the infor- 
 mation I require. Good-night." 
 
 Mason found Eph. completely master of the situation. 
 He had used his eyes and ears to good purpose. 
 
 "You had better, Cap " Eph had fallen back into his 
 professional manners " try and get what you most need 
 in the village, as they say our baggage may be will be more 
 than a month on the road." 
 
 " Oh, I can make myself comfortable with very little. 
 Now look here, Eph., I have got to set off at daylight. I 
 am so tired I may oversleep myself, just see I am called, 
 will you ? " 
 
 "Daylight, eh. Don't see how I can get you new 
 boots by that time," then holding up as he spoke the sole 
 of one for inspection, which Edward had just taken off : 
 " won't tote you much farther, as the Southern darkeys 
 say." 
 
 "No matter," said Edward, " they will do my business 
 until I get back." 
 
 " So," muttered Eph., as he stretched himself in front 
 of the fire, " you're going to ride, or maybe you're going by 
 boat. No matter, we will see in the morning."
 
 CHAPTER XVII. 
 
 THE SPY. 
 
 " There was a laughting devil in his sneer." 
 
 "THE CORSAIR." 
 
 fiT was still dark when Edward felt himself 
 rather roughly shaken and heard Eph.'s voice. 
 " I ain't got no watch, but I kinder think 
 it's near daylight. I can't make this plaguey 
 fire burn nohow. You'll have to take a dry polish this 
 morning, all the water's frozen stiff." 
 
 Never was a man more reluctant than Edward to turn 
 out from his comfortable bed into the cold- He found 
 that his faithful friend had warmed some coffee and suc- 
 cessfully foraged in the house so as to procure him quite a 
 passable meal of cold meat and bread. 
 
 " I've been thinking, Ed., that I won't list yet. You can 
 afford me board and lodging and I will look after your 
 things like : the Lord knows they want it bad enough. 
 You see it's blamed easy to say yes any time, and not so 
 easy to take the back track, when it comes to the fighting. 
 I kinder think the old man down stairs'll find me a place 
 he looks like one of them chaps." 
 
 As Eph. was talking, more to himself than to Edward, 
 he had made up a bundle of substantial sandwiches, and 
 carefully examined Edward's pocket flask, pouring out and 
 drinking quite a stiff horn. 
 
 "That's real old Connecticut apple-jack. I must do 
 
 (191)
 
 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 them democrats the justice to say, most on 'em knows good 
 liquor. Now I'll be darned if that wasn't made by Major 
 Baylies. He's fit for nothing else. See here, Ned." Edward 
 was by this time through with his hasty breakfast and 
 showed signs of moving. " Jist you set down there and 
 write me two or three lines, saying as how I am your 
 help." Eph. could not bring himself to say servant. " I 
 hain't got no idea of seeing the inside of a guard-house if 
 I knows it. So that's all right. Yer got any money ? 
 Don't be afraid to borrow. I'll charge it agin your estate, 
 if you don't come back. Yer needn't look at your pis- 
 tols, I loaded them myself after ye were to sleep. Good- 
 by, take care yerself." He followed Edward with his 
 eyes as far down the still dark street as he was able, and 
 as he mounted the stairs he muttered : " Wish I was going 
 with him. He's rash. The old man must be a judge of 
 human nature. That orderly said he never saw him take 
 so to a man as he did to our Ed. Something's up, depend 
 on it. Wish I had a hand in." 
 
 Edward soon reached the lake, and on the long wharf, 
 which extended some distance from the shore, he saw the 
 dark forms of two men. One was the sentinel on guard, 
 who instantly challenged. Edward had been furnished 
 with the countersign, and the sentinel promptly brought 
 his piece to the. "carry " as he passed by him. The other 
 form, thickly muffled in a boat cloak, answered his ques- 
 tion by saying, 
 
 "A boat's crew, under my command, are placed at the 
 orders of Captain Mason ; are you he ? " 
 
 The voice sounded familiar, and the growing light 
 showed the fine, strong, handsome figure of Sam Griswold.
 
 THE SPY. 193 
 
 "Why Sam.," said Edward, " what rare piece of luck 
 has thrown us together ? " warmly shaking again and again 
 the hand of his old school-mate. Nothing could exceed 
 the pleasure which both men felt, and as Griswold drew 
 Edward towards the barge, he almost hugged him with 
 delight. There was a heavy fog on the lake, and Griswold 
 was soon obliged to give all his attention to the course they 
 were rowing. The boat was a very large one, pulling eight 
 oars on each side, being what is called double banked, i. e., 
 two rowers on each bench. No word was said by either 
 as to their destination, and as by degrees the fog lifted 
 under the influence of the winter sun, Edward saw they 
 were some distance from the shore and slowly drawing- 
 towards the entrance of the St. Lawrence river. The 
 weather had not yet been severe enough to close the lake 
 to ordinary navigation, although there were large quantities 
 of floating ice. As the wind freshened Griswold set a lug- 
 sail and their progress became very swift. 
 
 The seamen, as well as Griswold himself, although heavily 
 clothed, were in full uniform, and were all armed. Evi- 
 'dently no concealment was desired. To Edward's inquiries 
 as to their destination, Griswold could only answer, " My 
 orders are to take a Captain Mason to a certain point on 
 Great Island, and then wait his orders. More than that 
 I know nothing." 
 
 The time passed rapidly. The two young men were 
 full of mutual inquiries, and it was with regret that Edward 
 heard the order given to take in the lug and pull the heavy 
 boat slowly towards the shore. The point which they had 
 reached was heavily wooded, and as most of the trees were 
 evergreen, afforded a safe and perfectly secluded anchor-
 
 194 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 age. As they rounded the point they came suddenly on a 
 long canoe drawn up on the shore, similar to the ordinary 
 boats used by the French habitats of the country. 
 Griswold immediately ordered his men to stop pulling, and 
 directed half of them to take their arms, and then slowly 
 allowed the barge to drift towards the little sandy beach. 
 As the keel of the boat grated on the shore, Mason sprang 
 out and the barge was immediately shoved off and held 
 stationary a short distance from the land. 
 
 Edward pushed his way through the fringe of low 
 bushes, and after going a few feet found himself in the 
 presence of three men who were sitting round a small fire 
 apparently in the act of cooking their dinner. Two of the 
 men were dressed in the common clothes of the Canadian 
 peasant, and had a half-stupid, half-cunning look, so pecu- 
 liar to their race. They were evidently only the boatmen 
 in attendance on the other member of the party, who had 
 the dress and bearing of a gentleman. He resolutely kept 
 hig head bent over the fire, and his slouched hat was drawn 
 down so low that Mason was unable to distinguish his 
 features. Completely in the dark as to whom he was to' 
 meet, or in what manner they were to recognize each other, 
 Mason determined to take the initiative. 
 
 " Well, gentlemen," he said, " what sport ? " 
 
 Without raising his eyes, or noticing in any way his 
 presence, the man answered in a bold, clear voice, which 
 struck Edward as familiar, the single word " one." 
 
 " I said," he exclaimed as Edward stood hesitatingly 
 before him, and rising as he spoke, to his feet, " one fish 
 was all we had taken." 
 
 As a long string of fish lay extended on the snow, Ed-
 
 THE SPY. 195 
 
 ward was if possible even more puzzled at such an unne- 
 cessary falsehood. The man pushed back, as he spoke, 
 the brim of his hat, and Edward immediately recognized 
 the disgraced gambler, his quondam host, Capt. Quincey. 
 It was several minutes before either of them spoke, when 
 at length Quincey broke the silence by saying 
 
 " Captain Mason is again welcome to the territory of 
 his Majesty. May I ask what are his intentions in thus 
 intruding himself ? " 
 
 The man's manner was singularly insolent and defiant, 
 and Edward felt his temper rise as he answered 
 
 " As the stronger party, sir, "perhaps you will inform me 
 what your intentions are in this lonely spot, so far from hu- 
 man habitation. And why, in answer to a civil question, I 
 am told such an outrageous falsehood ? " He pointed, as 
 he spoke, to the long string of fish. 
 
 Quincey, who seemed to be laboring under intense al- 
 though suppressed excitement, disregarded the inquiry and 
 said 
 
 " You were a party, sir, to a scene, a pre-arranged 
 scene, I make no doubt, which stripped me at once of 
 rank and means of subsistence, which sent me from the 
 association of gentlemen, of those among whom I had been 
 born and bred, to keep company with curs like these," he 
 pointed as he spoke, to the two habitats, who sat in stolid 
 indifference by the fire, listening to a conversation of which 
 probably they did not understand one quarter. 
 
 " I need hardly remind a person who possesses such 
 powers of observation," said Edward with a sneer, " of the 
 old saw, 'He who plays with fire will get burnt.' " 
 
 " I shall not attempt to resent," answered Quincey, with
 
 196 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 some dignity of manner, " any insult, however gross, which 
 Capt. Mason chooses to put upon me. No one knows better 
 than I do that an hour's weakness, folly, call it what you 
 will, has raised up between us the impassable barrier which 
 always exists between the gentleman and the outcast. 
 Yet," he added bitterly, " your friend, who found it conso- 
 nant with his honor to denounce, to destroy, the poor 
 wretch who, tempted by poverty, yielded to the lure the 
 fiend always has ready, found that sense of honor no bar- 
 rier against debauching the wife of the man whose bread 
 he daily ate." 
 
 Edward was deeply moved. 
 
 " As you well know, Captain Quincey, I was a stranger, 
 until that very evening. I know no antecedent facts. 
 My belief is founded on the observation of the hour. 
 But on my soul, on my honor, I believe there exists no 
 relation other than pure friendship, between those two 
 parties." 
 
 In his intense interest Edward had moved a step for- 
 ward, and laid his hand on the arm of the other, who 
 recoiled from him as if it had been the touch of an 
 adder. 
 
 " You are green, sir, I see, in this world's ways. You 
 know but little of the class to which your friend Harcourt 
 belongs. It were too much honor to the daughter of his 
 uncle's dependant, that she should be the plaything of his 
 passions." 
 
 " It certainly strikes me," said Edward, collecting him- 
 self, " that this interview, in mid-winter, on the banks of the 
 St. Lawrence, should be brought to a close. Your wife's 
 honor is in your keeping. God be merciful to her. Now
 
 THE SPY. 197 
 
 sir, what are you doing in this lonely place. Mark me, sir, 
 no prevarication." 
 
 " And who made Captain Mason a judge and ruler of 
 my actions," answered the man with a sneer. 
 
 " Twenty armed men, within calling distance." 
 
 " Ton my word, you have the best of the argument," 
 said Quincey with a laugh. " Go back, sir, you errand 
 here is done. " Remember, sir, I have only caught one 
 fish." 
 
 As he spoke, a loud whistle sounded from the boat, and 
 Edward made his way to the shore. The boat was touch- 
 ing the beach. 
 
 " Come on board, quickly," said Griswold. "I see over 
 those headlands the top-sail of a large schooner. Quick ! " 
 
 " One second," exclaimed Edward. 
 
 He sprang back as he uttered the word. Quincey was 
 gone, as were the two companions who were with him. Ed- 
 ward made his way rapidly to the boat, which pushed off, 
 the men stretching themselves with a will to the oars, 
 Their progress was aided by the lug-sail which Griswold set 
 as soon as they were clear of the islands, but night had 
 closed in before the security of Sackett's Harbor was 
 reached. Edward was soon in the presence of the Gen- 
 eral, who was evidently anxiously expecting him. 
 
 "Well, well," he exclaimed, as Edward entered the 
 room, " what said our faithful traitor." 
 
 "Upon my honor, General, I have seen no one nor 
 heard any thing except what came from a convicted cheat 
 and swindler, a Captain Quincey, whose acquaintance I 
 made in Quebec, while a prisoner." 
 
 " So, so you know Captain Quincey, do you ? I never
 
 SIBYL SPENCER, 
 
 dreamed of that. Well, what did he say, the first word, 
 remember now, the first word." 
 
 " One." 
 
 General Brown sprang from his chair and opening the 
 door which communicated with an adjoining room, said, 
 " Captain, tell the officer of the day to double the sentries, 
 and see that the most extreme watchfulness is kept during 
 the night. Have me called on the slightest alarm. The 
 slightest, do you understand?" 
 
 The answer was lost, and the General slowly turning 
 walked backwards and forwards up and down the room. 
 This was the first intimation that Edward had that the 
 quandom British officer was a spy of the United States. 
 So strong was his astonishment that it attracted the atten- 
 tion of the General, who with a laugh, said, 
 
 " You certainly, my dear boy, did not expect we ob- 
 tained our information from the respectable subjects of 
 King George, did you ? " 
 
 " No, certainly not. But my acquaintance with this man, 
 and all the strange incidents of the two evenings that I met 
 him, rushed back upon me, so that I was for the moment 
 bewildered." 
 
 " See," said the general, taking from a drawer in the 
 table a plan of the defences of Sackett's Harbor. " Our 
 small force is posted here and here. Should any thing 
 
 happen to me, the command devolves on Colonel , to 
 
 whom you must turn it over. You have not actually en- 
 tered upon your duties, and as I feel no inclination for bed, 
 sit down by the fire and tell me what you know of this 
 man's history. It will while away an hour." 
 
 Edward narrated the scenes of that evening. The gen-
 
 THE SPY. 199 
 
 eral was much interested, particularly at his account of 
 Captain Quincey's unhappy wife, and the subsequent con- 
 fession of attachment by Captain Harcourt. 
 
 " Your friend," he said, " must be a fine fellow, high- 
 toned and honorable. The lady, perhaps, might have been 
 happier had he been less so. Who knows ? There are 
 some facts, however, which I am glad to learn. This man 
 Quincey has been playing, as all spies do, a double part. 
 He gave much information to the Eastern division last 
 year, long before his card cheating was found out. He 
 came about a month ago and hired a little house just out- 
 side the village. I will have it examined to-morrow, at 
 least if for me there is a morrow." 
 
 The General walked to the window and opened it, look- 
 ing up at the stars as they shone out clear and bright in 
 the cold winter's sky. " Come here, Mason. Look up 
 at ' these patines of pure gold ' and tell me what are they. 
 Made solely for the use of man, fresh from, the alchemy of 
 the Creator, and set there for his benefit and pleasure only ? 
 Or are they other worlds, full of other intelligences, per- 
 haps of men, with passions, hopes and fears like our- 
 selves ? " 
 
 " Without pretending to be a teacher, General, I have 
 always doubted if the Bible told us more than a fractional 
 part of the great history of the universe. Has it not rather 
 only lifted the veil and allowed us to see, as it were, darkly, 
 God's dealings with a portion of his creatures here on 
 earth ? " 
 
 The General closed the window and with a slight shud- 
 der drew near the fire. 
 
 " Why, Mason, for a man who has sat at the feet of the
 
 2OO SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 Gamaliel of the Congregationalists, these are strange doc- 
 trines ; almost as strange," he added with a smile, " as to 
 see a member of the Society of Friends in this garb and 
 commanding an army. You would say men's beliefs, my 
 boy, sit but lightly on the majority of mankind, and 
 Quaker or no Quaker, my strongest wish now is to beat a 
 British army. Hark ! what was that." 
 
 As he spoke, the faint, distant report of a gun made 
 itself heard, followed by the loud roll of several drums from 
 different quarters of the town. 
 
 General Brown calmly drew round him the heavy cloak 
 which lay on a chair, and said with a smile, " We shall 
 have a good chance, Edward, to solve the great problem 
 this night. Gentlemen, our posts are in the front," and 
 followed by his staff he left the room.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII. 
 
 THE CONFESSION. 
 
 " And better had they ne'er been born 
 Who read to doubt or read to scorn." 
 
 SCOTT. 
 
 HE attack on Sackett's Harbor had been made 
 under cover of a heavy fog, by a force of some 
 six hundred English regulars and Canadians, 
 masked and concealed by a cloud of savages. 
 For a long time the result was doubtful. Several times 
 the American forces, consisting mostly of militia, had been 
 driven from their defences. Once a panic had seized them 
 which, but for the all-prevailing presence and genius of 
 General Brown, would have proved fatal. As it was, the 
 English burnt a sloop of war, nearly completed, and de- 
 stroyed large quantities of military stores. Stubbornly 
 holding the position with the few regular troops at his com- 
 mand, General Brown gathered round him by slow degrees, 
 the scattered fragments of his command and step by step 
 forced the British commander back to his boats. 
 
 The loss of life, in proportion to the number of soldiers 
 engaged, was enormous ; and when, late in the morning, the 
 tired and worn-out troops were able to attend to the 
 wounded, it was found the fruits of victory were with 
 neither party. 
 
 (201)
 
 2O2 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 This had been the first serious affair in which Edward 
 Mason had been engaged. General Brown was always 
 chary of praise, but he expressed himself as more than 
 pleased with the coolness and bravery of his young aid. 
 
 The press of business for the next few days engrossed 
 every moment and thought, and Edward forgot, until it 
 was recalled to him by an accident, that the spy Quincey 
 had a house on the outskirts of the town. Edward was 
 sent one evening by the General to examine the con- 
 dition of some wounded prisoners whom the imperfect 
 hospital accommodations had compelled the authorities to 
 quarter in the houses of the citizens. It was a Sunday, 
 and as Edward was slowly walking by a little "meeting 
 house," his attention was called to the soft, low hymn, 
 which was being sung. He had forgotten the day. There 
 is no Sunday in the army. Unconsciously to himself he 
 drew closer to the door, listened, and finally opened it and 
 entered. There were very few persons in the room, and 
 the majority of them were women. Their sad faces showed 
 it might well be called the " house of prayer." The 
 minister, a very young man, spoke feelingly of the bitter 
 sorrow and desolation which the passions of men had 
 brought on the little quiet village. His remarks did not 
 occupy more than a minute or two, and after a brief but 
 heartfelt prayer, his congregation was dismissed. As Ed- 
 ward passed from the building he found himself brought in 
 contact with a woman dressed in deep black and covered 
 from head to foot with a heavy veil. He was passing on 
 after a careless glance, when she touched his arm, and in- 
 dicated a desire to speak with him. Following her to 
 one side, under the light of a small oil lamp which feebly lit
 
 THE CONFESSION. 203 
 
 up the darkness of the chapel, she raised her veil, and it 
 was with a start he recognized Mrs. Quincey. Her eyes 
 were red with weeping, and her cheeks deadly pale. The 
 sad, almost fearful, glance she threw on Mason touched his 
 heart. It was with deep feeling he extended his hand. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Quincey, what can I do for you ? " 
 
 The poor woman broke down at once. " I am alone 
 here, Mr. Mason, captain, I should have said. Alone, with 
 not a friend. Stop, I do not want your charity. Of money 
 I have more than enough. But I want some one person, 
 to whom I can speak, who can feel for, pity, and protect 
 me." 
 
 He was about speaking when she motioned him to be 
 silent. 
 
 " I had to pour out my heart to God. I have no 
 friend save Him. Weak, sinful as I am, surely, surely He 
 will not turn his face from me. If you have a few minutes of 
 leisure will you come and see me. I must have some one 
 to talk to. Not secretly, although I am under a feigned 
 name. You know where my house is. Close by the 
 brook. Ask for Mrs. Stillwell. Pardon my having de- 
 tained you." She drew the veil over her face and passed 
 out into the deserted street. 
 
 When Edward reached head-quarters he took the first 
 opportunity of narrating the incident to General Brown. 
 
 " Take care, my boy," said the General laughing. " Pity 
 is a dangerous sentiment between two people of the op- 
 posite sex not twenty-six years old. Go see her as much 
 as you choose, but remember, there are spies on the Eng- 
 lish side as well as on ours. This man's life, her husband
 
 2O4 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 you say he is, hangs on a hair. Do not be the means of 
 bringing him to justice." 
 
 Some few moments afterwards, as Edward was about 
 leaving the office, the General called him back. " Mason, 
 Arthur Hamilton told me you were engaged to marry a 
 charming girl in your native town. Was he right ? " 
 
 " I am happy to say, General, he was." 
 
 " So. From something the old fellow let drop, I 
 thought he rather envied you the lady : am I correct ? 
 There, there, don't scowl. You do not know Hamilton. 
 There is a great big nobleness about that man which pre- 
 cludes jealousy. I have watched you closely, my boy, and 
 have seen at the mention of his name a flash I did not 
 like. The biggest hearts, Edward, are those which have 
 the fewest small feelings. Good-night." 
 
 Mason took the first opportunity to pay his visit to Mrs. 
 Quincey. She kept him waiting but a few moments. She 
 was dressed in black, and her dark hair, drawn back from 
 her face, showed its clear classic beauty to advantage. 
 Mrs. Quincey made no effort to shake hands with her 
 visitor, but motioning him to a chair, began the conversa- 
 tion abruptly. 
 
 " Few women in my situation, Captain Mason, but 
 would have shrunk from again meeting the witness of their 
 shame. But I am denied the luxury of retirement, I had 
 almost said of every womanly feeling." 
 
 " Pray, my dear Mrs. Quincey, do not judge so harsh- 
 ly. 1 was, as you know, involuntarily a witness of that 
 painful scene. But, on my honor as a man, I hold you 
 guiltless of the crime imputed. Captain " 
 
 " Stop ! do not name him here," said the other. " I
 
 THE CONFESSION. 2O5 
 
 have sought this interview to obtain the means of escape 
 from him. I must place the impassable barrier of con 
 tending nations between us. For well does my woman's 
 heart tell me, if we meet again, I am ruined and he is un- 
 done." 
 
 The wretched woman covered her face with her hands 
 and sobbed audibly. 
 
 " I am placed in the most embarrassing situation," said 
 Edward, walking up and down the room. " I have met 
 your husband once since that evening. That is to say, I 
 saw him. We met under circumstances in short what 
 shall I call him ? " 
 
 " Do not hesitate," said Mrs. Quincey. " Add to 
 gambler, blackleg, traitor, the one word spy, and fill up 
 the measure of his ignominy. Captain Mason, on your 
 honor as a soldier no, by a stronger title, as a man, I 
 throw myself on your pity. Find me a refuge. You hesi- 
 tate. Can it be ? Does your nation war on women ? 
 You shake your head. Then you believe me the vile thing 
 that man called me." 
 
 " No, no," exclaimed Mason, passionately. 
 
 Mrs. Quincey did not seem to hear him, she had walked 
 to the window and was resting her face against the glass. 
 Suddenly she turned. 
 
 " Mr. Mason, hear my story." There was a dignity, a 
 pathos in her manner which carried conviction with it. " I 
 am the daughter of an English clergyman. From my child- 
 hood I was the playmate of Captain Harcourt. I never 
 knew the time when I did not love him. He was then a 
 younger son, and as such, it mattered little whom he 
 loved or whom he married. The death of his brother
 
 2O6 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 made him the heir of one of the proudest titles in Eng- 
 land. Then from that moment, to love the poor portion- 
 less clergyman's daughter became a crime. We parted ; 
 when I again heard of him he was in Spain. I will not 
 weary you by narrating what arts, what force even were 
 used to make me accept the hand of Mr. Quincey. I be- 
 lieve he loved me. But what he sought was my dower, 
 the price he was to receive for my bought hand. A cap- 
 tain's commission and a sum in ready money, which was 
 the only means he had of rescuing himself then from dis- 
 honor. Mr. Mason, you will never know the great gulf 
 which divides the noble from the commoner in England. 
 Trained from infancy to subserviency, they kiss the foot 
 which treads on their necks. To have pleased that 
 haughty old man, my father would have sold his soul. 
 What was a daughter's happiness ? " 
 
 She trembled so violently that Edward took her hand 
 and gently, led_her to a seat. 
 
 "* " Pray -be - s calm, my dear madam; why so unneces- 
 sarily grieve yourself by entering into these details ? " 
 
 " They are not unnecessary, Mr. Mason ; you must 
 find me a refuge or I must seek one for myself in the 
 grave. And you must understand the character of the 
 woman who asks this favor of you. For years we have 
 wandered from one military station to another, living as 
 adventurers live. Shunned, yet courted. Pray to God, 
 Mr. Mason, no sister of yours is made to play the part of 
 a decoy. Dressing herself at one time in meretricious 
 taste to lure some sated voluptuary, or to bewilder the 
 fancy of some half-grown boy. You ask me how I en- 
 dured all this ? I had a child. Oh, the agony and shame
 
 THE CONFESSION. 2O/ 
 
 with which I have leaned over that cradle ! While she 
 lived, I bore every thing. No man can fathom the depth, 
 the fulness of a mother's love. To keep that child what 
 have I not suffered ! If I hesitated, if for one moment I 
 even dared to look disobedience there was my child. 
 The laws, the boasted laws of England, give to a father, 
 not a mother, the care of a helpless infant. Blows, in- 
 sults, revilings, all were as nothing, so I kept that child. 
 You start. To you a woman is sacred. Ha, ha ! I have 
 been beaten ' with many stripes.' " 
 
 " In the name of Heaven ! " cried Edward, "why did 
 you not appeal to your friends ? Put yourself under the 
 protection of your family ? " 
 
 " My family, my friends, I had none. As long as my 
 child lived it was nothing. But when she died " 
 
 There was a pause at last she looked up. 
 
 " We were in Malta. Captain Quincey had changed 
 from one regiment to another, until it were weariness to 
 follow us. How well I remember that night. We were 
 quartered in the town. The soft southern moon shone 
 down on the almost waveless sea ; my husband had a card 
 party. He was deeply in debt, and from this party he 
 hoped to win enough to rescue him. I hate him, I loathe 
 him." The expression of her face became almost fiend- 
 ish. She added 
 
 " Let me do him justice. He loved his child. I held 
 the poor little wasted thing in my arms. Each breath 
 threatened to be the last. He came in, I can remember 
 the very tones of his voice. Oh, my God ! had he taken 
 me at that moment in his arms, I could have forgiven all, 
 I could have loved him. Accident brought us to Quebec,
 
 2O8 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 and there I met Harcourt. As I hope for mercy, I have 
 never met him alone. But oh, how the old feelings rushed 
 back on me ! Human love is not the growth of human 
 will. Save me, Captain Mason, save me from myself ! " 
 
 " I will do every thing in my power, my dear lady," 
 answered Edward ; "but to do so, I must ask some ques- 
 tions. What are your means of support ? Are you obliged 
 to labor for your own livelihood ? " 
 
 " I have a little money, Captain Mason, sufficient, with 
 economy, to support me for a short time. But I must find 
 something to do. I am well educated, I am a thorough 
 musician. I will do any thing, be any thing, which is hon- 
 orable. But it must be in some place of which my hus- 
 band knows nothing. Somewhere where I shall be for- 
 gotten." And she added, as her hands fell into her lap, 
 and her head sank forward, " where I shall forget." 
 
 " Mrs. Quincey, there is one place, my old home in 
 Connecticut, in which I feel sure I can promise you safety 
 and protection. It is a quiet little country village, but to 
 me a very dear one, as it contains the woman I love and 
 am to marry." 
 
 " You do trust me, then," she said, interrupting him, 
 taking one of his hands in both hers and before he could 
 prevent it, raising it to her lips. "You do believe me 
 when I say I am pure ? You do not think me the vile 
 thing that fiend called me ? " 
 
 " On my soul, I do not," said Edward. " It will take 
 some time to have an answer to a letter, at this season. 
 And now, where is your husband ? " 
 
 " I do not know. He came the night of that fearful 
 combat. Staid with me all the next day and then without
 
 THE CONFESSION. 2OQ 
 
 a word disappeared. He may return at any moment." 
 She shuddered as she uttered these last words, and glanced 
 timidly round as if she expected to see him walk into the 
 room. 
 
 " I am myself, as you well know, a close prisoner by my 
 duties, Mrs. Quincey, and I dread your taking this long 
 journey alone at this season." 
 
 " Oh, do not mind me for a moment. I am strong, and 
 to be in safety, I would march up to one of your bat- 
 teries." 
 
 "How do you live here?" asked Mason, "have you a 
 safeguard ? I will speak to the General." 
 
 " Mr. Quincey gave me a paper, the day he first 
 brought me here. I have never looked at it, but he said 
 it was something of that sort. I will get it." She rose as 
 she said this, but Mason detained her. 
 
 " It is a matter of no consequence. I will see to your 
 safety. But, Mrs. Quincey, we must meet very seldom. 
 This town is full of English spies, speaking the same 
 language, it is impossible to prevent it. Although I 
 despise your husband, I would not willingly doom him to 
 death." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, not his blood," said the woman clasping 
 her hands ; " I would not have on my head the blood of the 
 father of my child." Edward rose, and as he moved to- 
 wards the door, he said : 
 
 " Sleep quietly, Mrs. Quincey, I will make every prepar- 
 ation for your departure. Ere many days you shall have 
 put the ' barrier of contending nations,' as you poetically 
 expressed it, between you and danger." He smiled as he 
 spoke. She had risen, and holding out both hands, said, 
 
 14
 
 2IO SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 a smile for the first time dimpling her cheeks, and making 
 her look radiantly beautiful 
 
 " God bless you ! Captain Mason. And He will bless 
 you. You have saved a soul ! "
 
 CHAPTER XIX. 
 
 WAVERING. 
 
 " Time was 
 
 I had been prone to counsel such as yours ; 
 Adventurous I have been, it is true, 
 And this foolhardy heart would brave nay court, 
 In other days an enterprise of passion." 
 
 VAN ARTEVELDE. 
 
 HERE was in Lucy Quincey's very attitude, as she 
 sat by the window of the little parlor, a degree 
 of languor which, to a close observer, would 
 have told the irresolution of her character. 
 Bright, gay and sparkling in manner, she was the very child 
 of pleasure. All her earlier life had been spent in the soft 
 retirement of an English home. Petted and spoiled, she 
 grew up unacquainted with any of the ruder scenes of 
 life, which strengthen while they pain. She had yielded to 
 the pressure of her family, as she had told Mason in the 
 brief story of her life, and accepted as her husband a man 
 whom she neither loved nor respected. In her heart 
 she always remained true to her earlier love, the love of 
 her life. Separated by her husband's vices from the 
 
 (211)
 
 212 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 society of those of her sex whom she could respect, she 
 had been thrown back as it were upon herself, until, weary 
 and broken-spirited, she longed for rest, even if it were 
 the rest of the grave. As she sat by the window in the 
 fading light of that February day, the work which had 
 been the excuse falling unheeded in her lap, her eyes 
 dreamily fixed on the western sky, her fancy brought 
 back her far away distant home. The soft green meadow 
 gently sloping to the little brook ; the quaint old church 
 with its ivy-covered porch ; the old rectory, round which 
 the cawing rooks held holiday ; the old yew-tree, the 
 childish trysting-place of a love which had never died 
 all changed, all gone, alone in a foreign land. No heart 
 to love her, no hand stretched forth to aid her weak, 
 wandering steps. She who had never been able to form 
 the simplest resolution unaided, was it to be wondered 
 at if the lip quivered, the eye grew moist, the cheek paled, 
 until at length " tears dispelled the dream ! " 
 
 There was a bold, resolute step in the passage way, the 
 lock on the door turned, and with a quivering start the girl 
 for she was yet but a child in character awoke. Could 
 it be her husband. She trembled at the thought. She 
 hardly dared to glance at the form which stood there, 
 dimly shadowed in the twilight. Who could it be some 
 phantom of the past, which memory had evoked ! Her 
 very heart for the moment stood still. Then how the 
 blood rushed tumultuously, through every throbbing vein, 
 at the one word 
 
 " Lucy ! " 
 
 The man whom she most dreaded, and yet most longed 
 to see to escape the bare accident of whose presence
 
 WAVERING. 213 
 
 she was preparing to fly, she knew not, cared not whither, 
 stood before her. His name broke involuntarily from her 
 lips, as holding out both hands she said : 
 
 " Charles ! " She caught back her hands instantly. " Oh 
 why why are you here, here and in disguise ? " 
 
 Harcourt, for it was he, looked at her for a moment as 
 if stupefied. He had possessed himself of the hands she 
 had held out, and there was more of temper than of love 
 for the moment in the tone with which he said : 
 
 "After the letter you wrote, I should hardly have 
 expected you vyould have asked me this question." 
 
 "Letter what letter! I never wrote you any." 
 
 Poor Lucy's hands had grown cold as she spoke, and 
 she trembled so she could hardly move. 
 
 " There must be some fearful mistake here," she went 
 on to say ; " how and when did you get any letter ? answer 
 me, for God's sake ! or I shall go mad." 
 
 " Nothing more simple," said Harcourt, drawing from 
 his pocket a letter, which he extended to her. " A French 
 * habitat ' brought that to me at Montreal, where we are 
 now stationed. He said you gave him ten guineas to place 
 it in my hands." 
 
 The woman looked at it with bursting eyes. 
 
 " I I never wrote it, I never saw it before what does 
 it mean ! " 
 
 Harcourt walked towards the fire, a cold stern expression 
 grew over his face as he turned his back to the blaze, and 
 said slowly 
 
 " Then I am not expected, nor, as it appears, welcome. 
 That letter appoints this day, this very hour calls upon 
 me by the memory of former days by my early love, by
 
 214 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 our childish faith and trust, to meet you and to rescue 
 you. Lucy, I am here." 
 
 Mrs. Quincey had struggled to her feet, she was as 
 weak and tottering as an infant. She feebly attempted to 
 light a candle. Harcourt took it from her hands and lit it. 
 Not a muscle moved. There was no quivering of the nerves 
 there he was calm, and cold, and still. She held the letter 
 to the light; her hand shook so that she could not read it. 
 It was several moments before she could recover her com- 
 posure sufficiently to take in the meaning of the words. 
 
 " This is not my handwriting it is a forgery. It is my 
 husband's." The paper fell from her hands, and the two 
 looked blankly into each other's faces. At length she 
 said : 
 
 " Fly ! fly at once. In mercy to me, save yourself." 
 
 " Not without you, Lucy," he said slowly, again taking 
 the hands she helplessly held out. " If by that scoundrel's 
 actions I have been brought here, you shall no longer be 
 left in his power. If safety can be found, you shall share it." 
 
 " Think not of me," she answered ; " I have found an 
 asylum far, far away. In a few short days I shall be 
 safe, where he can never find me, and where I shall be 
 alone. Alone, if the broken-hearted can ever be alone 
 while memory holds." 
 
 " Lucy " his voice grew very soft as he spoke, and he 
 drew her closely to him " Lucy, there is no one in the 
 whole world, dear child, to whom you can cling except to me. 
 You will have neither part nor heritage with strangers. 
 From our childish days we have been all in all to each 
 other. I can make you safe. I can place you where no 
 harm can touch you. Come, Lucy, come with me."
 
 WAVERING. 215 
 
 The poor woman raised her eyes, heavy with tears, to 
 his. She drew closer to him, she clasped the hands which 
 held hers. 
 
 " Charles, don't you know has not your heart told you 
 that what I fly from is you. Yes, from you. I bore it all 
 Charles the insult, the neglect, the very blows. I could 
 have borne it always, had my child lived. But when you 
 came when you brought back to me the past ; when I felt 
 what might have been, but oh, God ! could never be " 
 
 " But, Lucy," he broke in, passing his arm round her, 
 " what makes you say such words. Have I ever done 
 any thing which merited such a reproach ? Have my 
 manners, my language, my actions, been any thing but what 
 they should have been, to the pet, the plaything, the love 
 of my youth, now the wife of another? " 
 
 " It was that very soft, gentle kindness, dear," she an- 
 swered, endeavoring, but in effectually, to draw herself away 
 from his arms, " which made me fear. I could feel your hand 
 tremble when it touched mine. I could see you watching me 
 when you thought I did not see. I know my own weakness." 
 
 " Darling, my own pet, my love ! " his voice seemed 
 strange to him, as he interrupted her. He bent his head 
 until his lips almost touched her ear " What right has 
 this man over your life ? He has outraged every feeling of 
 your nature ; he has torn you from friends and country ; 
 he has linked with his own criminal nature " 
 
 " Hush ! in mercy hush," she said. 
 
 " I will not hush ! " he exclaimed with a burst of passion, 
 which swept away every artificial barrier. " In the sight of 
 God this man is not your husband. You are mine you 
 belong to me. If a vow forced from you by lies, and terror
 
 2l6 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 and fraud, counts for any thing, what are the hundreds you 
 made me, freely in the sight of that very God and his 
 recording angels." 
 
 " You are mad," she said, bursting from him " mad, 
 and I was right to fly from you as from the plague. Hear 
 me." 
 
 " I will not hear you," Harcourt said, advancing towards 
 her as she drew back at his approach " cold reason shall 
 not find utterance when only the heart should speak. I 
 ask you again what is this man to you that you fly from him 
 and yet shun me." 
 
 " He is my husband," Lucy said very slowly. " Charles, 
 you must hear me, I beg, I implore you. Even in my igno- 
 rance I know, that found within these military lines, in 
 that dress, at this time, an ignominimous death is certain. 
 As yet, you are unknown, unseen, undiscovered. Fly, fly 
 and forget poor Lucy Quincey." 
 
 " I will not go," he said slowly and distinctly, " with- 
 out you. You need not beg nor implore. I will not die a 
 felon's death, but I will die by my own hand, rather than 
 endure the long agony of knowing that you belong to 
 another. This is no idle threat, Lucy, made by a love-sick 
 school-boy. In some way or another I have been brought 
 here I seek not to discover how. God's finger is in it, 
 my fate is in your hands. Come with me or " 
 
 She did not wait for him to conclude the sentence. She 
 took her hands from before her face. Her manner and 
 air showed more of resolution than it had ever shown 
 before. 
 
 " Charles, my whole heart is yours. I do not doubt 
 your love now, more than I doubt my own. You shall your-
 
 WAVERING. 2 I 7 
 
 self decide my fate our fate. Through these long, bitter 
 years, the wife my tongue blisters to say it the partici- 
 pator, I had almost said the accomplice, of a cheat and 
 sharper, surrounded by women to whom the very name of 
 virtue was unknown, I preserved mine. Will you not shun, 
 will you not despise, can you love the woman who gives 
 you all. If you can, oh read well your heart, take her, for I 
 can resist no longer." 
 
 Harcourt sprang forward to grasp the hands she held 
 out, when a slight rustle in the room made them both start 
 and turn. 
 
 Slowly divesting himself of his coverings and throwing 
 them on the table, the spy Quincey, her husband, stood 
 before them. 
 
 " When I was a liveried servant of King George, I 
 thought it too much honor to have my humble home visited 
 by the Hon. Charles Harcourt ; and now that I am an out- 
 cast and a fugitive, a spy oh, how the noble gentleman must 
 feel his very flesh creep at being in the same room with a 
 spy, how can I find words to express the feelings of my 
 heart ! " 
 
 Harcourt, dauntless as he was, felt his heart stand still 
 at the sneering malignity with which these words were 
 uttered. Lucy, trembling in every limb, without the power 
 of utterance, sank powerless into a chair. Manning him- 
 self by a desperate effort, Harcourt faced the man. An 
 observer, ignorant of the preceding scene, would hardly have 
 known that any thing exciting had taken place, so calm 
 and passionless became his manner. True to man's in- 
 stincts, with the danger came the courage. 
 
 " If I am here," Harcourt said slowly and with the
 
 2l8 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 slight drawl which was with him almost second nature, 
 " you have nobody to thank for it but yourself. That 
 letter there is your handiwork, and I am at your mercy." 
 
 " My handiwork," said the other with a sneering laugh. 
 " I only baited the hook, and the simple gudgeon swallowed 
 the bait, hook and all." 
 
 " Mr. Quincey, between us as men, there is no excuse 
 which can pass current. I weighed the risk before I took 
 the step. That woman there, your wife, was from childhood 
 my idol. She was pledged to me. You have neglected, 
 you have outraged, you have beaten, that wretched creature 
 whom you never loved." 
 
 " You lie ! " thundered rather than spoke Quincey. 
 " From the first moment I saw her I loved her with as 
 mad a love as yours. I was poor, necessitous, but all 
 your uncle's boasted wealth would not have tempted me 
 to do what I did, had I not loved her. I thought, what 
 heart does not think, but that patient love would win love 
 in return." 
 
 Harcourt burst into a sneering laugh as he said : 
 " You showed your love. A man usually crushes in his 
 grasp the fragile vase he values." 
 
 The man did not hear him. In his excitement he 
 almost foamed at the mouth. He tore open his cravat and 
 actually gasped for air. 
 
 " Love her ! I would have sold my soul for a smile. I 
 had not been married an hour, before I found she loathed 
 me. She talked and muttered in her sleep, and always 
 your name. She would stretch out her arms, as if to clasp 
 you to her, and I did not stab her. If my hand but 
 touched her, she shrank from me, as if I were a leper. In
 
 WAVERING. 2 1 9 
 
 my mad endeavor to win her heart, I squandered the gold 
 I had received in surrounding her with a luxury which was 
 not mine to give. All. all was vain she loved only you. 
 Step by step I sank until in a mad hour I cheated at cards. 
 You you, the favored lover you, the man I hate, who has 
 thwarted me at every turn ; who disgraced me before that 
 Yankee officer and my own wife, you stand here now in 
 my power. Ha ! Ha ! " and the wretched creature laughed 
 as does some maniac. 
 
 Lucy Quincey had sat like one frozen in her seat. She 
 had heard the loud voice, she saw the savage, the distorted 
 features of her husband as he poured out the story of 
 his woes and his strange love. She had but one thought, 
 one idea. Harcourt was in danger. He must be saved. 
 Feebly she dragged herself forward until she reached her 
 husband's feet and sought to clasp his knees. 
 
 " Pity, mercy," she said feebly, as a child would speak. 
 " Let him go. I will be your slave, your bond-woman. I 
 will love you if you will only let him go." 
 
 Quincey seized her hands and forced her rudely back. 
 
 " Let him go ! Outside this house there stands a guard. 
 I have denounced him to this General Brown. To this 
 smiling Quaker, who thinks no more of blood than does a 
 tiger. I have but to raise this hand, and to-morrow morn- 
 ing there outside this town there stands a gibbet." 
 
 " Oh no ! you cannot, you will not," cried the wretched 
 woman, dragging herself loose, only to again clasp him 
 round the knees. " He has done you no harm. I de- 
 ceived him, I betrayed him. I was pledged to him when I 
 married you. Let him go, and kill me if you will." 
 
 " I stood," said Quincey, his voice becoming very low
 
 22O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 and still, " outside that door since first he entered this 
 room. I heard him beg you to fly with him. I heard him 
 say that you were his in the sight of God. I saw your faint 
 resistance, which lasted for a moment. You placed your 
 fate in his hands, and he took you to his heart. Did he 
 have mercy on me ? " 
 
 Harcourt made a step forward and was about to speak, 
 when Quincey raised his hand, 
 
 " Now listen. I am the outcast, he the gentleman. You 
 placed your fate in his hands, I do the same. Let him tell 
 to that same Yankee officer, he who now commands this 
 party, that he came here to make you his mistress and you 
 consented. Let him tell it, I say, before you, and by the 
 God of Heaven he goes free ! Speak ; her fate is in your 
 hands. You sought to make her a harlot: proclaim her so 
 before the world." 
 
 " Wretch ! brutal wretch ! " said Harcourt, springing for- 
 ward, " how dare you make such an offer to me ? " 
 
 "Pause, reflect," said the other. "The last of the noble 
 race of Harcourt dying on the gibbet, like a dog. She is 
 only a woman. She consented to do as you wished. Only 
 a woman." He had drawn from his pocket as he spoke a 
 small whistle, and held it in his hand. 
 
 " Do what you please, 7 ' said Harcourt, drawing back, 
 and resting one arm on the mantel-piece, "no word of mine 
 shall stain her fair fame." 
 
 He blew the whistle, and in a moment the room was 
 full of soldiers.
 
 CHAPTER XX. 
 
 THE REVENGE. 
 
 " Nay, start not, 'tis of one abhorr'd." 
 BYRON. 
 
 EVERAL days had elapsed since Edward Mason 
 had had his interview with Mrs. Quincey, dur- 
 ing which time he had wrung a reluctant con- 
 sent from the General that she should be al- 
 lowed to proceed to D . Despising, as General Brown 
 
 did, the treacherous scoundrel who was her husband, he 
 was yet the most valuable spy in the employ of the United 
 States. How he obtained his information, or how he suc- 
 ceeded in conveying intelligence was a mystery which the 
 General did not seek to unravel. Love of gold tempted 
 him, perhaps love of gold might retain him. It was not in 
 human nature, however, and less in that of a high-spirited 
 soldier, to refuse protection and assistance to a woman, and 
 that woman young and beautiful. 
 
 Edward had determined that he would confide to Eph. 
 the care of Mrs. Quincey, which in the disturbed nature of 
 the country was absolutely necessary. He had expected 
 some little reluctance from the young man, but not the al- 
 most dogged obstinacy with which he met the proposal. 
 As was usual with Eph., this reluctance showed itself in a 
 series of questions, shrewd, clear, and most difficult to 
 answer. 
 
 (221)
 
 222 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 Eph. was not a servant. He had returned to the army 
 more on account of his love for Edward than any other 
 reason, and remained attached to his person from the same 
 feeling ; but now he had other plans. His keen Yankee 
 wit showed him the pecuniary advantages to be drawn from 
 trading with the soldiers, and he was negotiating for the 
 post of sutler at head-quarters, a position which Edward's 
 influence with the General made reasonably certain. 
 
 " Who's Mrs. Quincey ? " he asked, after hearing Ed- 
 ward's request rather than command. " From down East, 
 Boston way ? " 
 
 "No; she is a lady," answered Edward, "whose hus- 
 band is absent, and in whom I take great interest." 
 
 " Know her folks ? " 
 
 " Well, no. I know her husband, very slightly." 
 
 " Friends of the General ? " pursued his imperturbable 
 follower. 
 
 " No ; but the General is anxious she should be cared 
 for and removed." 
 
 " Why don't he send one of his orderlies. He's got 
 half-a-dozen hanging round doing nothing." 
 
 " There are reasons," answered Edward, " why he does 
 not want to be mixed up in this affair at all." 
 
 " Hain't got a clean record. It strikes me, Ed., you 
 ain't acting square to the old folks to home, are ye, to say 
 nothing of Sibyl." 
 
 " What do you mean ? " said Edward, turning angrily 
 towards him. " Do you think I would allow any one 
 whose character I thought could be impeached, to enter 
 that house ? " 
 
 " Should think not," replied Eph., without altering a
 
 THE REVENGE. 223 
 
 muscle of his face. " Kinder think, Ed., if I was you, I'd 
 leave man and wife to settle their own quarrels. Sure to 
 get yer fingers burnt." 
 
 " What makes you think I am interfering between hus- 
 band and wife ? " asked Edward, unable to resist a smile at 
 the acuteness of the remark. 
 
 " Plain as preaching," said Eph. " Think I know 'em 
 both. She's a tall, black-eyed, black-haired woman, lives 
 down by the mill. She was to meeting last Sabbath. Sings 
 like an angel. You see, Ned, I've been thinking of 
 buying out this here sutler, here. He had the lake fever 
 last fall. Thought he was going to die. When you think 
 of buying, ye had better know something of the value of 
 the article. So I have dropped in there at his place of an 
 evening, smoked a pipe and had a glass of rum, and kept 
 my eyes open." 
 
 " You have told me of this before, and I asked the Gen- 
 eral if he would give you the post if you could make a bar- 
 gain, as you wished me to." 
 
 " Did you now," said Eph., interrupting Edward. " That 
 was kind and neighbor-like. Now let me tell my story in 
 my own way, or I must shut up." 
 
 " Well, well," said Edward, " go on. You are as long 
 as the moral law ! " 
 
 " Two or maybe three times," continued Eph., " there's 
 come to that store a small black-eyed, hawked nosed man, 
 looks like a Jew. He don't belong to the army, though he 
 pretends he's got business here. T'other night, when the 
 provost guard was a-going round a-picking up stragglers, 
 they sot down on him. He pulled out a pass, signed by 
 the General himself. I couldn't see the name, but I mis-
 
 224 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 doubted the fellow. So when he left, I jist lounged along 
 after him. He went down by the mill and stood, a-hang- 
 ing round there half an hour or so, but he didn't go in. 
 Bet you a drink that's Quincey, or whatever his name is." 
 
 There was a great deal in this to worry Edward. He 
 knew that no communication had passed between the spy 
 and General Brown. This might be easily accounted for 
 by the absence of any important news. But why had 
 Quincey not seen his wife ? why did he haunt her abode, 
 and yet shun her actual presence. 
 
 " Come, Eph., I will take it as a great favor if you will 
 see to this lady as far as Albany. You shall not lose any 
 thing by it. I can keep the sutler's post for you as you 
 know." 
 
 " I'd do 'most any thing, Ed., to please you. But I tell 
 you plainly it is agin the grain. Now see, you jist write 
 all you know about this affair to Sibyl. It will do you no 
 harm, I can tell you." 
 
 " What difference will it make to Sibyl, you donkey. 
 Mrs. Quincey will tell her own story. You don't think 
 Sibyl will believe I am in love with this woman, do you ? " 
 
 " You jist do it now, I tell you. The old woman is a- 
 nagging of Sibyl, don't mean nothing, but she does, 
 and old men are mighty parsevering. They ain't got such 
 a long time to spend sparking as we have." 
 
 Edward did not reply. He moved uneasily in his seat, 
 and then abruptly left the room. When Mason entered 
 the General's office he found him standing with his back 
 to the fire, and evidently in no very amiable mood. 
 
 " Captain Mason, have you seen this letter," he tossed 
 an open letter on the table before him as he spoke. Ed-
 
 THE REVENGE. 225 
 
 ward took it up. It was written in an unknown hand, and 
 was without any signature, and stated if a guard was sent 
 at eight o'clock that night to a place indicated, an English 
 spy could be captured, having valuable papers on his per- 
 son. Great secrecy must be kept, and the guard must be 
 prepared for a desperate resistance. The place indicated 
 was but a short distance from the house occupied by Mrs. 
 Quincey. Sackett's Harbor was, with the exception of 
 some trifling field-works, perfectly undefended on the land- 
 side, and the sparse nature of the settlement, and the 
 proximity of the surrounding woods, made any attempt to 
 control the entrance or exit of a single individual extremely 
 difficult. 
 
 " Thee need not look so worried," said the General half 
 laughing ; " I make no doubt it is the work of our friend 
 Quincey. The English would not be half the soldiers I take 
 them for if, by this time, they did not know just how many 
 men we have and all about us. Still it may be as well to 
 send the guard." 
 
 " May I not go in person, General ? I have my rea- 
 sons," and he briefly related his man Eph.'s having dis- 
 covered the appearance of Quincey. 
 
 " Ah, the cunning dog! " said the General. " He draws 
 pay from both sides, does he ? Let him look to himself, or 
 I will make his wife happy in making her a widow. Does 
 thee know any one who would console her, Edward ? " 
 
 " Upon my soul, General, I believe her all that is good 
 and pure and unfortunate." 
 
 " Tut, man ! Thee has heard the French proverb, ' C'est 
 I'occasion qui fait le voleur.' What time is it, seven o'clock ? 
 Send for two files and a sergeant. Let him command the
 
 226 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 party and do thee only look on, unless it becomes necessary 
 to act." 
 
 Edward was about starting to obey the orders, which 
 had been given in a quick, sharp tone, entirely different to 
 the usual gentle, soft voice used by General Brown in his 
 intercourse with his favorite, when the General said : 
 
 " Take this man, this Eph., as you call him, with thee, 
 and let him see if he recognizes the guide whom you hope 
 to meet. Don't get thyself shot, my boy. A man at bay 
 is a desperate animal." 
 
 Edward had hadly time to call Eph. when the guard he 
 had sent for was ready on the street. Taking his sword 
 under his arm the young officer ordered the sergeant in 
 command to march his squad to the place indicated in the 
 letter, and there to receive such orders as might be neces- 
 sary. The night was clear and piercingly cold. A sharp 
 north-west wind swept down the frozen surface of the lake, 
 bringing with it the chill of the arctic zone. The men 
 marched rapidly, so rapidly in fact as to make conversation 
 with Eph. difficult, and all that Edward could do was 
 briefly to explain the object of their mission. There was 
 something in the boy's manner which astonished Edward. 
 It might be, however, only his true Yankee phlegm. He 
 was not in the slightest degree surprised at the errand they 
 were on. It was useless to question, only monosyllables 
 were returned in answer. The men had halted at the 
 point mentioned, and stood stamping their feet and slap- 
 ping their hands to keep them from freezing. Edward, 
 warmly wrapped up, had drawn within the shadow of a 
 building, followed by the silent but expectant Eph. Some 
 few minutes elapsed when a dark figure stole softly towards
 
 THE REVENGE. 
 
 the watchful sergeant of the guard, and a low whispered 
 conversation took place between them. Edward turned to 
 point out this figure to his companion, when to his sur- 
 prise, he was gone. Noiselessly as a shadow, he had crept 
 from Edward's side, and was lost in the shade of the sur- 
 rounding buildings. The conversation between the ser- 
 geant and the new-comer was conducted in so low a tone 
 that not a sound reached Edward's ear. Before he had 
 recovered from the surprise caused by Eph.'s disappear- 
 ance, the guard had again started. This time the men 
 marched as silently as possible, and as Edward had sur- 
 mised, halted in front of the little house inhabited by Mrs. 
 Quincey. The stranger again held a whispered conversa- 
 tion with the sergeant, and then crept up the steps of the 
 house, the door opened and shut noiselessly, and he was 
 gone. When Edward reached the sergeant the astonished 
 soldier looked blankly in his face. 
 
 " What did that man tell you," said Edward. " Come, 
 sir, be brief." 
 
 " To wait here until I heard a whistle. Then to rush 
 in and seize or bayonet on the slightest resistance whoever 
 I saw." 
 
 " Do no such thing," said Edward, authoritatively. 
 " Make prisoner, but offer no violence except as the last 
 resort. Do you understand me, the last resort. You take 
 your orders from me, I am responsible, not you, sir." 
 
 The sergeant answered respectfully and gave the ne- 
 cessary orders to his guard. Oh, how slowly the minutes 
 dragged on ! At first, excitement kept the men on the 
 alert, but soon the excessive cold crept over even Edward's 
 excited feelings.
 
 228 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " Captain," said the sergeant, respectfully, " my men 
 will be frozen if we stay still here much longer ; can't they 
 walk up and down ? " 
 
 Edward was in utter perplexity. What should he do ? 
 He felt certain some treachery lay hidden under this mys- 
 tery, but the spirit of his orders was clear and plain. 
 Motioning, rather than speaking his consent, that the men 
 should be marched rapidly up and down the street, Edward 
 revolved in his mind the expediency of himself entering 
 the house. He hesitated, anxious to save Mrs. Quincey 
 from the pain of being disturbed by so violent an entrance, 
 when there rang on the air a loud whistle, followed by a 
 shriek so piercing, so heart-rending, that the strong men 
 actually trembled as they looked into one another's faces. 
 Edward was the first to recover, with one bound he was at 
 the top of the low stoop, and calling on the guard to follow, 
 he burst rather than opened the door. 
 
 The small passage way into which he entered was de- 
 serted, a bright lamp burned on the table, but all within 
 was as silent as the grave. A door on his left hand was 
 partly open, and as he entered, he witnessed a scene which 
 for the moment made his heart stand still. Immediately in 
 front of him stood .the spy Quincey, his wrappings and 
 disguise thrown aside. At his feet, crouching on the floor, 
 vainly striving, as it seemed, to clasp his knees, was his 
 wretched wife. Her hair had become loosened and fell 
 over her like a veil. Her eyes were red with weeping, and 
 her whole attitude showed the most abject terror. At the 
 other end of the room, his face pale, but otherwise as calm 
 and composed as if in a drawing-room in London, resting 
 one elbow on the mantel-piece, stood his friend, Captain
 
 THE REVENGE. 229 
 
 Harcourt, and in the garb of a civilian. There was some- 
 thing devilish in the look Quincey cast on his wife, as, 
 raising his hand, he pointed to Harcourt. 
 
 " That man is a Captain in the Royal Guards, in dis- 
 guise, within your lines. I denounce him as a spy." 
 
 There was a moment of perfect stillness, when he hissed 
 out rather than said : 
 
 " Now, adulteress, it is my turn." 
 
 Mason glanced at the poor woman, who slowly sank, 
 inch by inch, until she lay motionless at the wretch's feet, 
 then turned his wondering look, first on Harcourt, then on 
 the demoniacally gleeful face of Quincey. 
 
 " Fall back ! " Edward exclaimed to the guard, " fall 
 back, no questions, I command ! " 
 
 " Captain Harcourt," he went on to say, " there must 
 be some awful mistake here. You never came within our 
 lines as a spy. On your honor as a gentleman, state to 
 me you did not come as a spy, and whatever may be the 
 consequences, you shall go free." 
 
 There was a moment of perfect silence, broken only by 
 the mocking laugh of Quincey, when Harcourt said : 
 
 " You are very kind old fellow, but I don't think if I 
 were in your place I should act so, you know, Captain 
 Mason," and he moved a step forward, casting one look 
 on the fainting woman, " I am your prisoner."
 
 CHAPTER XXI. 
 
 LIFE OR DEATH. 
 
 " I from this time forth will thus proceed, 
 Justice with mercy tempering when I may, 
 But executing always." HENRY TAYLOR. 
 
 HE accuser and the accused, both under the 
 strict surveillance of their guard, were marched 
 rapidly to head-quarters. Edward Mason stayed 
 a moment to commit the still unconscious 
 woman to the care of the mistress of the house, whom the 
 noise and bustle had brought upon the scene. Eph., 
 whose boundless curiosity and self-assertion even these 
 occurrences could not check, had picked up from the floor 
 the letter which Harcourt had handed to Mrs. Quincey, and 
 with a muttered "perhaps this can tell something," fol- 
 lowed in the footsteps of his impatient master. The two 
 men did not speak during their short walk, and so rapidly 
 was the distance traversed that they entered the house at 
 the same moment as the guard. Edward made his way at 
 once to the presence of General Brown, whom he found 
 busy writing. It was with an air almost of indifference 
 that his superior heard the report made by his aid. 
 '230)
 
 LIFE OR DEATH. 23! 
 
 " So you know this man, do you ? " asked General 
 Brown. 
 
 " Indeed I do," replied Edward ; " it was to him, and 
 him alone, I was indebted for a thousand acts of kindness, 
 while I myself was a prisoner in the hands of the British." 
 
 " Well, my boy," said the General, smiling kindly at the 
 excited young man, " send him now to the guard-house, or 
 take charge of him yourself, and repay, as well as you can, 
 what he has done for you during the short time he is 
 likely to remain here." 
 
 " And the other, the spy Quincey," asked Edward. 
 
 " Let him go," returned the General, taking up his pen, 
 " to-morrow I will appoint a commission, and have the 
 affair quietly looked into." 
 
 "But, General," urged Edward, " I greatly fear some 
 dreadful harm will come to that wretched woman if left 
 alone with this excited, almost crazy husband of hers." 
 
 "Well, my young champion of Dames," said the other, 
 with a cheerful laugh, " lock this raging ' Othello ' up also, 
 and then comfort the fair lady yourself. In short, my 
 dear boy, act in this matter as you please. I give you full 
 authority ; now not another word. Good-bye." 
 
 When Edward joined the party in the outer room, he 
 shuddered as his eyes encountered those' of Quincey, 
 which seemed actually to blaze with fury. 
 
 " Captain Harcourt, have I your parole ? " he asked. The 
 other bowed. " Sergeant, take this man " he pointed as 
 he spoke, to Quincey " to the guard-house ; tell the 
 officer on guard to show him every kindness, but to see 
 that he does not escape." 
 
 He had hardly finished the sentence, when, with a
 
 232 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 bound like a tiger, Quincey threw himself on Harcourt, 
 who was standing with his back to him, and whom the 
 shock threw on the floor. Had it not been for the prompt- 
 ness of Eph., who passed his arm round the madman's 
 head, drawing it back until his neck was almost dislocated, 
 and thus compelling him to release his hold, Quincey would 
 have inflicted a severe if not a fatal injury on Harcourt. 
 Quincey was immediately seized by the soldiers, and after 
 a fruitless struggle secured. Eph. did not escape scathe- 
 less the maddened man had made his teeth meet in the 
 fleshy part of his arm. Captain Harcourt rose breathless 
 and somewhat stunned from his fall, and it was several 
 moments before he spoke. 
 
 " I trust," he said at last, looking at his assailant who 
 was being dragged to the door, "that this attack will not 
 cause any unnecessary severity to be inflicted towards that 
 unhappy person. He has just cause to hate me. I am 
 not in the slightest degree hurt." 
 
 Edward made no reply, but passing his arm through 
 that of the young officer drew him away to his quarters. 
 Eph. followed grimacing at the pain which the bite caused, 
 and anathematizing his assailant in the quaint language of 
 his class. 
 
 " Drat the fellow, there was no occasion to bite, 'cause 
 I saved him from swinging ; 'spose you two'd like to talk a 
 bit together. Guess I'll send up what there's to be had 
 for supper, and then get one of them Doctors to put some 
 yarb or other on this plaguey arm of mine. Lord ! how it 
 does hurt." 
 
 Harcourt was greatly exhausted. He had tasted hardly 
 any food the entire day, and the excitement under which he
 
 LIFE OR DEATH. 233 
 
 had labored, had worn him out. It was with difficulty that he 
 forced himself to eat the plain but not uninviting food that 
 Eph.'s forethought had provided. Mason watched him 
 in silence. As he ran his eye over the intelligent though 
 rather languid countenance, with its clear-cut features and 
 aristocratic air, the athletic and graceful form, he did not 
 wonder at Mrs. Quincey's choice. He was certainly such 
 a man "as limners love to paint and ladies to look 
 upon." 
 
 " ' You cast your bread upon the waters and it comes 
 back to you in many days,' or words to that effect, the good 
 book says, Mason. I certainly little thought when I visited 
 you in the citadel, at Quebec, I should ever be your guest 
 under like circumstances." 
 
 " I am indebted to you, Harcourt, for so many real acts 
 of kindness, that the little I can now do is as nothing. But 
 tell me," he went on, stopping Harcourt in what he was 
 about to say, " what could have induced you to come into 
 our lines, and in disguise some strange mistake or equally 
 strange fatality ! " 
 
 " I certainly did not come as a spy," answered Harcourt 
 drawing his chair close to the fire, "although I know I can 
 never prove the fact before any military court. You see, 
 Mason, when people speak the same language and resemble 
 one another as we do, it is hard to draw imaginary lines, even 
 if they exist in the eyes of military men, particularly when 
 there is a constant intercourse kept up by the citizens 
 without any interference on the part of either of the belliger- 
 ent governments. Ah, me ! " he went on with a sigh, " why 
 try and hide the truth from you. I had a letter, or thought 
 I had one, from Lucy, asking my aid bidding me to come
 
 234 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 to her. Come to her ! I would have found her if she had 
 been buried ' in those deep solitudes and awful cells ' that 
 Pope writes of. Fool that I was, I might have known she 
 never wrote the letter ! " 
 
 " Then you did get a letter ; you were tricked, trepanned 
 into this mad enterprise I will call it by no other name," 
 eagerly asked Mason. " Give me the letter where is it 
 it may save your life ! " 
 
 Harcourt never moved. He sat looking silently into 
 the fire, d"fld it was not until Mason rather angrily repeated 
 his question, that he answered : 
 
 " No, my boy, it cannot be. I must not purchase safety 
 at her expense ; don't urge me, it must not be. In the 
 delirium of passion, I pressed her to break the barrier 
 which fate had raised up between us. I thought that only 
 to possess her, all else in this world was as nothing. Her 
 fair name, my own honor. I would have sacrificed every 
 thing to have called her mine. I love her so dearly, so 
 fondly, that now that reflection has come, I can say I thank 
 God she is saved from disgrace even at the expense of 
 my own life." 
 
 " But, Harcourt, you carry this chivalric feeling to the 
 height of madness. Mrs. Quincey did not, you say, write 
 that letter. It was the work, doubtless, of her scoundrel 
 husband. How then can she be injured, even should all 
 the truth be known." 
 
 " How she will be injured you ask ? Listen. In my in- 
 terview I took advantage of the power which her love for 
 me gave me. I obtained her consent that she would fly 
 with me. This wretch, I cannot call him a man, who could 
 pander to his own dishonor who could accept revenge at
 
 LIFE OR DEATH. 235 
 
 the expense of his wife's fair fame this creature heard 
 every word. Heard my mad pleadings. Heard her agonizing 
 consent, and then offered to open the door of safety to me 
 if, by so doing, I would admit her shame. Lucy Quincey, 
 save in loving me, has no fault. She is pure and spotless. 
 What is my useless life compared to her honor. No, no, 
 urge me no more, my resolve is taken." Harcourt buried 
 his face in his hands as he finished speaking. 
 
 Mason thought long and anxiously over General Brown's 
 parting speech " act in this matter as you please. I give 
 you full authority." Had he authority to release his pris- 
 oner ? Could he allow him to escape ? His heart was deeply 
 moved for the firm, manly character, who with every thing 
 before him to make life enjoyable wealth, high position, 
 such as were almost unknown in America yet ran the 
 risk of being shot as a spy, rather than cast the breath of 
 suspicion on the woman he loved. 
 
 " Look here, Harcourt," Mason said at length, " General 
 Brown gave me full authority to act in this affair as I chose. 
 I am going to let you go." A bright look came into the 
 other's face as he heard these words, and stretching out his 
 hand, he took that of Mason's. 
 
 " Mason, old fellow, I promise you on my honor, that 
 no thought of obtaining information on any subject, save 
 what was connected with Lucy ever came into my mind. 
 To this I pledge you my honor as a soldier and a gentle- 
 man. But have you this authority ? " 
 
 " Yes, I think so," answered Mason rather hesitatingly, 
 in reply" to this direct question ; " at any rate I will take the 
 responsibility." 
 
 " No, no, old boy, that won't do," said the other rising
 
 236 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 from his seat and again taking his hand ; " you are very 
 kind to me, Mason ; you are a gentleman in every sense 
 of the word, but you must not do for me what I should 
 hesitate to do for you, and unless the order had been 
 positive, you know, 'pon my word, I don't think I could 
 have done so even for you, you know." 
 
 " Harcourt, I dread the commission if you are sent 
 before one ; for me it will be nothing. I can truly say 
 the General gave me full authority to act as I thought 
 best." 
 
 " Is that my bed ? " said Harcourt shortly, pointing as 
 he spoke to one that stood in a corner of the room. " I am 
 very tired quite knocked up. Have me called at any hour 
 you want me. Good-night." He threw himself as he spoke 
 on the bed, and in one minute was sleeping as calmly as 
 an infant. 
 
 There was something very striking in the calm high 
 bred way in which this young Englishman met the almost 
 certain consequences of his own folly. Could General 
 Drown have been present at this interview, and conversant 
 with all the facts, Mason would have had but little fears of 
 the result. Dut Harcourt would be sent before a judge 
 to whom the act was every thing, the intention nothing. 
 As these thoughts crossed his mind Mason descended to 
 the lower room which was used in common by all attached 
 to the military family of General Brown. Here he found 
 Eph. in a state of high excitement talking to a woman, ev- 
 idently endeavoring to prevent her further entrance into 
 the house. It needed but a glance, notwithstanding her 
 wrappings, for Mason to recognize Mrs. Quincey. As he 
 came near she threw back her veil, and showed him a face
 
 LIFE OR DEATH. 237 
 
 beautiful in its palor, and lit up by eyes which shone in 
 the midst of tears. 
 
 " Oh, Captain Mason, save him, save him ! " were all the 
 words her broken voice could command. 
 
 With the gentle kindness of a brother, Mason drew 
 her into an adjoining apartment. He shrank from hav- 
 ing her exposed to the curious gaze of the rough order- 
 lies in attendance. He placed a chair for her near 
 the fire, and endeavored vainly to comfort a creature 
 without hope. 
 
 " Oh, Captain Mason ! " she exclaimed, " this is my 
 my doing. I, and I only, am responsible for this murder, 
 for murder it will be, if Charles loses his life. It was to 
 save me, and me only, from what he knew was a life of 
 misery, that he came here. I did not write the letter, but 
 I was the cause of its being written. And now he he 
 must suffer and for my fault." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Quincey," said Mason, still holding her 
 hand and stroking it as he would have done to a little 
 childj " pray compose yourself, our only hope of saving 
 Harcourt from the consequences of his folly lies in prov- 
 ing the reason of his having come within our lines. Where 
 is the letter ? " 
 
 " I do not know," said the wretched woman, drawing 
 away her hand and brushing off the tears which filled her 
 eyes. " I have not seen the letter since he came into the 
 room." A shudder ran through her frame as she alluded 
 to her husband. " Captain Harcourt must have it I 
 think I gave it back to him." 
 
 Mason bent over the fire and kicked the burning logs 
 with angry impatience.
 
 238 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " Then he is lost," he said at length. 
 
 " Oh, no, no ! don't say so," exclaimed Lucy, clasping 
 her hands, " oh, why are you so cruel as to say that ? " 
 
 " I have tried my best this evening to induce Harcourt 
 to make public the statement of what brought him within 
 our lines, and he obstinately refuses." 
 
 " Why," said she, looking up with a face of childlike 
 simplicity. " What reason can he have ? " 
 
 " He says it will compromise your honor." 
 
 " My honor ! why should my honor or my life or any 
 thing which belongs to me interfere with his safety. Lis- 
 ten to me, Captain Mason. Go to this General of yours, 
 I do not even know his name. Go and say that the love 
 that Lucy Quincey, the wife of a paid spy in your service, 
 could not help showing to the playmate of her childhood, 
 to the affianced husband of her youth, was made use of as 
 a lure to satisfy the revenge of a wretch so base that at 
 any time he would have staked that wife's honor on the 
 chance of a card or the hazard of a die." 
 
 She had risen from her seat as she spoke. Her heavy 
 cloak had fallen back, her long curls, damp from the night 
 air, hung half shrouding her pale face in which shone an 
 expression of fixed determination. 
 
 " Go, go at once, I say, to this General who holds in 
 his hands the issue of life and death. Tell him the man 
 he is going to condemn is innocent of every thing but of 
 loving the heart-broken creature who stands before you. 
 If Harcourt dies, and by my hand, for it will be by my 
 hand, what is honor to me but an empty name. Go, Cap- 
 tain Mason, tell him all this tell it from me." 
 
 " Why not say it yourself, and not send a messenger ? "
 
 LIFE OR DEATH. 239 
 
 said a clear low voice behind them, and it was with a start 
 both Mason and Mrs. Quincey turned to find General Brown, 
 wrapped in his military cloak, his heavy horseman's boots 
 covered with snow, standing a silent spectator of their in- 
 terview.
 
 CHAPTER XXII. 
 
 THE REPRIEVE. 
 
 " A letter forged St. Jude to speed, 
 Did ever knight so foul a deed ? " 
 
 SCOTT. 
 
 ASON was but little astonished at the sudden 
 entrance of General Brown, for at all hours of 
 the day and night he was accustomed to make 
 unexpected visits to hospital, barrack or outpost, 
 to see personally if the efforts he was making to change, in 
 one winter, the raw recruit and undisciplined militia man 
 into the trained and obedient soldier were successful. 
 
 To Lucy Quincey, General Brown's personal appearance 
 was unknown. She only saw a handsome soldierly man, 
 of middle age, in the full uniform of a general of the army, 
 and by the respectful manner in which he was received by 
 her companion, she knew at once who he was. Motion- 
 ing her to a chair, the General threw off the cloak which 
 he wore, and placing his cocked hat on the table, turned 
 abruptly towards Mason and asked in quick, stern tones 
 " Who is this lady, Captain Mason ? " 
 As briefly as he could, Mason stated who Mrs. Quincey 
 was, and the errand on which she had come. He took 
 advantage of the opening thus made for him, and urged 
 
 in his own behalf a strong petition for the release of his 
 
 (240)
 
 THE REPRIEVE. 24! 
 
 friend. General Brown heard him all through without ut- 
 tering a word, and with the same stern expression of coun- 
 tenance, which softened a little as he turned his look on 
 the beautiful woman, who with every feeling of her soul 
 centred in her gaze, sat with folded hands, listening to 
 the words which she knew meant either life or death for 
 him she loved better than life. 
 
 "You say," he said, addressing himself suddenly to 
 Lucy, " a letter was written in your name, asking him 
 to come and rescue you from danger. Who wrote this 
 letter ? You say you did not." 
 
 " My husband." 
 
 " Your husband ? " a smile of incredulity crossed for 
 an instant the General's face. " "Where is this letter ? " 
 
 " Alas ! " said the poor woman, " I do not know ; after 
 my fainting fit, all memory except his danger was forgot- 
 ten. Send send instantly to the house, it must be 
 there ! " 
 
 " Then you were yourself ignorant of any knowledge 
 of this intended visit of Captain Harcourt, I think you call 
 him ? " 
 
 " Such an idea never crossed my mind," she answered. 
 
 " You have held no communication whatsoever, by let- 
 ter or messenger, with this officer, since you have entered 
 the territory of the United States ? " he continued. 
 
 " Neither message nor letter of any kind or nature 
 whatsoever." 
 
 " Captain Mason, where is this young officer ? " 
 
 " He is at present, sir, in my quarters ; I understood 
 that you gave me authority." 
 
 " Yes, yes, you might have stretched that authority 
 16
 
 242 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 further without my rebuking you. Oblige me by sending 
 or going for him, and at the same time, Mason, tell one of 
 the orderlies to have a corporal's guard here in readi- 
 ness." 
 
 As Mason left the room, General Brown turned to- 
 wards Lucy, and after looking at her for a moment, said, 
 slowly and distinctly, 
 
 " Now, madam, if you will control yourself and keep 
 quiet, and this young officer's story agrees with yours, I 
 will take his parole as a prisoner of war." 
 
 Lucy could only clasp her hands in thankfulness. 
 
 The General walked to the window and appeared to be 
 looking out on the still, quiet winter's night. Oh, how the 
 minutes dragged ! It appeared to Lucy as if Harcourt 
 never, never would come. She thought little or nothing 
 of herself. The weary years of mental suffering, the ne- 
 glect, the shame, the brutal ill usage, had been in these 
 last few hours forgotten. In memory Lucy went back to 
 her youth to the play-fellow, the gentle, affectionate 
 boy-lover to the man who to her first whispered love 
 to the only man she had loved. As she sat so still and 
 quiet, the big tears trembling on the long eyelashes, a 
 faint tinge of color flickering in her cheek, General Brown 
 felt, as he turned and looked on her, that he must be 
 more than a man who could refuse to risk life and honor 
 at the call of such a woman. But what was she ? Was 
 she an adventuress ? Was he the dupe of a well-laid plot, 
 or was this one of those cases of mental aberration men 
 call love ? The door opened, General Brown turned 
 quickly and fixed his eye intently on the young officer 
 who entered. As~ Harcourt saw Lucy, he gave a sudden
 
 THE REPRIEVE. 243 
 
 start, grew deadly pale, then flushed a deep, burning red. 
 He never spoke a word, nor did a sign of recognition ever 
 so slight, pass between the two thus suddenly brought into 
 each others presence. 
 
 " Your name and rank ? " 
 
 "Captain the Hon. Charles Harcourt, ist Reg. foot 
 guards, at present attached to the staff of Gen. Sir George 
 Prevost, Governor and Commander-in-chief of his B. Ma- 
 jesty's provinces of the Canadas." 
 
 " Your business within the military lines of the United 
 States ? " 
 
 " Upon my word, sir, it were hard to tell a silly freak 
 to see how you Yankees fared during the cold weather. I 
 think that is about the best reason I can give." 
 
 "Well, sir, and what is your opinion of how the 
 ' Yankees,' as you call them, fare ? " inquired the General, 
 not a tone of his voice altering at the affected imperti- 
 nence of the young Englishman's speech. 
 
 " My opportunities have been so few, arriving in this 
 village after dark as I did, and since then being so care- 
 fully cared for, that I prefer not answering the question." 
 
 "Are you ignorant, that for a soldier to enter the 
 camps, lines, or other military positions of the enemy in 
 disguise, is a crime punishable by the articles of war, of 
 all civilized nations, by death ? " 
 
 Harcourt's only answer was a bow. 
 
 " Then, not pleading ignorance, thee came as a spy, 
 thee has been taken as such, and to-morrow at sunrise, 
 thee shall be shot ! " General Brown's voice became ter- 
 rible in its intensity, but it was the only sign he gave of 
 ordinary feeling, in thus dooming a fellow-creature to eter-
 
 244 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 nity. His face wore a smile, his attitude was graceful and 
 unaffected as he stood with his back to the fire, facing the 
 little group. Mason had started forward as if about to 
 speak, but a quick wave of the hand had showed the fruit- 
 lessness of any such attempt. As for Lucy, abject fear 
 had taken away the power of motion, and she sat like an 
 image carved in rock. Harcourt had manned himself, but 
 all his courage could not prevent the tremor which ran 
 through his veins, and for an instant his voice, as he an- 
 swered, quivered. 
 
 " I shall make no attempt, sir I feel it would be use- 
 less to soften a sentence to which, as a military man, I am 
 liable, under the state of facts as you know them. I have, 
 however, one favor to ask. Let the name and rank of 
 Charles Harcourt be omitted from the record. Let him 
 sink into a nameless grave, untainted, at least so far as 
 his family and the world know, with disgrace ! " 
 
 " Thee shall have thy wish. Can I do more for thee ? " 
 
 " No ; I thank you. I have had more kindness than I 
 had any right to expect." The words fell mournfully from 
 the young officer's lips, and his eyes rested, full of love and 
 sadness, on the beautiful statue before him. 
 
 " Return, then," said General Brown, "to the chamber 
 you occupied. You shall pass this night alone with your 
 God. You meet your fate as a brave man should. I rely 
 upon your honor if you will give it. I pay this compliment 
 to thy courage." The General bent his head courteously 
 and motioned to Mason to accompany his friend. The 
 noise of the closing door broke the trance in which Mrs. 
 Quincey sat. It was with a gasping sob she fell forward, 
 clasping the hand of the General as she did so.
 
 THE REPRIEVE. 245 
 
 " Spare him ! for the love of God, spare him ! He is 
 no spy. I I brought him here. I I alone, am guilty ! 
 Punish me, but do not make the innocent suffer." General 
 Brown raised her from her knees and compelled her to 
 seat herself. Then taking her hand, he said in a kindly 
 tone : 
 
 " My poor child, I would willingly grant much more 
 than this to a woman's tears. But your story and that of 
 this young man do not agree. He admits he came into 
 our lines to obtain information. I fear he has but played 
 with your affection." 
 
 " Oh, no, no, General, why won't you believe me ? We 
 have known each other ever since we were children. I 
 was to have been married to him, but they forced us apart. 
 We met again at Quebec. He saw how I was treated. 
 He saw how I was abused, neglected, yes, and even beat- 
 en. He never spoke to me but as a man should speak to 
 a dearly loved sister ; but I knew the time would come, 
 when the old love would break out, and then we should 
 be lost ! " She covered her face with her hands and 
 sobbed convulsively. It was with a voice husky with 
 tears, that she went on 
 
 " A scene took place one evening, at which Captain 
 Mason was present. My husband had cheated at cards, 
 and Captain Harcourt discovered him and exposed him, 
 and forced him to refund what he had gained. Oh, Gen 
 eral, I had borne every thing. I had been made the tool, 
 by which men, old men as well as young, had been drawn 
 to our house to be robbed and plundered. Oh, do not 
 judge me harshly ; think kindly of me. I was so young. I 
 was alone, no voice to support me, no eye to pity. The
 
 246 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 wife of a man to whom honor was an empty sound. But 
 I weary, I tire you. Do not turn from me, oh, I shall die 
 I shall die ! " 
 
 The heart-broken woman bent her face to her very 
 knees as she rocked herself to and fro in agony. 
 
 " Indeed, indeed you do not tire me, my poor child," 
 said the General. " Speak to me as you would to a father. 
 Tell me the truth, the entire truth, and if thy story is what 
 I am willing to believe it to be, I will spare this youth's 
 life, and put thee not only where thee will be safe, but 
 honored and respected. Compose thyself and then pro- 
 ceed." 
 
 It was some moments before she recovered sufficient 
 composure to resume her narrative. 
 
 " When my husband was detected as a cheat, in his 
 mad rage he accused Captain Harcourt of being my lover. 
 There was no word too vile, there was no accusation too 
 base, which was not heaped on my head. At length I 
 turned on him. The worm they say turns at length. I 
 had in my hands some notes to which he had forged the 
 signatures. I threatened to send them to Sir George un- 
 less he consented to our separating forever. To save 
 himself he agreed, and I chose the States. Why, I know 
 not, except it erected between Harcourt and myself a bar- 
 rier as impassable, I thought, as the grave. For two months 
 I have lived alone here. My scanty stock of money 
 almost gone, without hope, helpless, homeless, alone. In 
 my despair, to save myself from appealing to Charles, I 
 asked aid of Captain Mason, whom I had recognized soon 
 after my arrival. He promised me succor. Promised to 
 send me to some quiet place, where his own family lived,
 
 THE REPRIEVE. 247 
 
 and where, by teaching music, the only accomplishment I 
 possess, I might earn my bread." 
 
 " Your story agrees with Mason's word for word. Go 
 on, finish thy history ; but do not excite thyself. You in- 
 terest me much." 
 
 " There is but little left, sir, to tell. My husband had 
 discovered my retreat. This evening Harcourt stood be- 
 fore me. He had received a letter in my handwriting, 
 asking him to come to me, offering myself to him, if he 
 would only come and save me. Oh, I cannot go on." 
 
 Poor Lucy, her cheeks, lately so deadly pale, were now 
 burning red. 
 
 " Yes, yes, I will. What are my feelings compared to 
 his life. I told him the letter was not mine, but he was 
 there. The love of years broke down the barrier I had 
 raised. He urged me to fly with him, and I consented. 
 My husband, who had planned the whole affair, had in 
 some manner obtained a guard. From you, sir, did he not ? " 
 
 " He did. He had written me that a spy could be 
 taken, by sending a guard to a certain house at a certain 
 hour. As a general rule, I pay little attention to such 
 letters, but there were military reasons which made me 
 anxious to know if I was not being played with. I mis- 
 trusted your husband, so I sent the guard." 
 
 " Well, sir, to bring my long story to an end, my hus- 
 band had heard all that passed. To gratify his mad 
 hatred he called in the guard. Now, General, you know 
 all on my honor, all." 
 
 " I wish, Mrs. Quincey, we had that letter. I will call 
 Mason. Oh, here he is. Mason, did none of the guard 
 find this much-talked-of letter ? "
 
 248 SIBYL SPENCER, 
 
 "I am happy to say, General, that my servant, who had 
 from curiosity followed me, picked it up," and he handed, 
 as he spoke, the paper to General Brown, who read it half 
 to himself and half aloud. 
 
 " A very clever forgery, but none but a boy would imag- 
 ine it came from a woman. The turn of the sentences, 
 the expressions used, are those of a man. Why did this 
 young fellow keep silence on what might have saved his 
 life. Can you answer me that, Mason ? " 
 
 " A chivalrous sense of honor, sir, I believe. He re- 
 proaches himself with this lady's suffering, and thought by 
 silence to save her fair name." 
 
 " How strange is the human heart ! Mason. My child, 
 I will keep you no longer in suspense. Your lover (par- 
 don the word, 1 1 mean no reproach) shall not suffer death. 
 This I promise, but you must be placed in safety. Now 
 go home and sleep in peace. You are worn out with 
 anxiety and sorrow. Mason send one of the orderlies with 
 her. Dismiss that guard and come back. I want to talk 
 with you." 
 
 When Mason returned to the room he found the Gen- 
 eral standing in the same attitude before the fire, the letter 
 still in his hand. 
 
 " My boy, I said how strange is the human heart. 
 See now, this young officer braves death, disgrace, any 
 thing to obtain a woman. She is within his grasp. She 
 consents. He has but to call her the thing he would have 
 made her. His honor revolts at the idea. The word 
 blisters his tongue to utter. He would rather die than 
 speak it. Where is he ? How does he act in this dread- 
 ful trial ? "
 
 THE REPRIEVE. 249 
 
 " I never saw a man more calm, General. After thank- 
 ing me for all I had tried to do for him, he threw himself 
 on his bed and now sleeps as quietly as a child." 
 
 " Sleeps, does he," muttered the General. " Sleeps, 
 when to-morrow's sun sends him, as he thinks, to eternity. 
 They are a strange race, these Norman-English, and yet 
 their great warrior, their greatest ruler, Cromwell, was but 
 a simple gentleman. Take this young man's parole not to 
 serve until he has been exchanged and send him back after 
 he has recovered from his fatigue. Make arrangements 
 for this fair lady's safety and honor, as you would for a 
 sister. Now, dismiss these thoughts from your mind, Ed- 
 ward. We shall have to sound 'boot and saddle soon.' 
 We change our head-quarters this week." 
 
 " Oh, General, have we orders to advance ? " 
 
 *' Mason, they have made me a Major-general in the 
 regular army. I am now in command of this whole fron- 
 tier. I asked for thee the rank of Lieut.-colonel, and thee 
 has it. We must beat these English that is, as old 
 Nat Green said, ' if an English soldier can be beaten ' if 
 it were but to show them what a man of peace can do." 
 He broke into a merry, hearty laugh, and slapping his 
 young aid affectionately on the shoulder, added 
 
 " Edward, like a true knight of old you love to succor 
 distressed damsels and love sick squires. Now, my boy, 
 show me you are worthy of your spurs. Good-night."
 
 CHAPTER XXIII. 
 
 THE CANNY SCOT. 
 
 " His unclosed eye 
 Yet lowering on his enemy 
 As if the hour that seal'd his fate, 
 Surviving left his quenchless hate." 
 
 THE GIAOUR. 
 
 ASON'S nerves had been severely taxed by the 
 scene he had witnessed, and he sat down by the 
 fire in the outer room, anxious to recover some 
 composure. The soldiers on duty sat or lay doz- 
 ing on the chairs or benches, and nothing broke the perfect 
 stillness except the tread of the sentinel on duty, and the 
 low cadence of the tune he was whistling to break the 
 monotony of his night watch. 
 
 Mason had fallen into a half sleep when the steps of a 
 man running rapidly, and the quick, sharp challenge of the 
 sentry, made him start to his feet. The outer door was 
 flung open, and a man panting with haste entered. The 
 spy, Quincey, had made a desperate effort to escape from 
 the guard-house, and one of the sentries had fired on him ; 
 he was supposed to be dying, and had earnestly begged 
 that Edward might be sent for. Putting on his overcoat, 
 Edward accompanied the man to the guard-house. This 
 was an old barn, which had been hastily fitted up to serve 
 the requirements of the service. Several small cells, to 
 act as places of confinement, had been built in the rear 
 (250)
 
 THE CANNY SCOT. 25! 
 
 of the building, and the whole had been made warm and 
 comparatively comfortable by two large stoves. 
 
 On a blanket in front of one of the stoves lay Quincey, 
 the damp dews of death on his forehead, and his features 
 pinched and drawn by the agony he was suffering. By 
 his side knelt a middle aged man, a surgeon in one of the 
 regiments quartered at Sackett's Harbor. The doctor held 
 in his hand a long probe, and his case of instruments was 
 open by his side. 
 
 " Ye maun lay quiet, mon," said he to the wounded 
 man, with a strong Scotch accent. " How the deel can I 
 probe ye when ye wriggle sa." 
 
 " Torment me no more," said the wounded man. " I 
 am beyond the reach of mortal aid." 
 
 " Ye ken the truth, mon," said the doctor as he bent 
 over and moistened the sufferer's lips with spirits and 
 water. " Ye maun cross the dark river, an there be a 
 river, which nae one of us can tell." He rose as he spoke, 
 and turning to Edward, went on 
 
 " The mon is wounded unto death, and he kens it well. 
 He's been asking for ye, captain, so I jist sent one of the 
 laddies to make known his wishes. If ye have aught to 
 say ye maun say it quickly. He has nae more than a half 
 turn of the glass to linger." 
 
 Quincey heard the softly uttered words, and opening 
 his eyes, turned them slowly on Mason. "I sent for you, 
 captain, to make you my heir. Will you bend down here. 
 It pains me to talk loud." 
 
 Mason knelt down by his side, all his aversion gone, as 
 he looked at the dying wretch. 
 
 " Can I do any thing for you, Mr. Quincey, or rather,
 
 252 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 will you not let me send for some minister of religion to 
 soothe these last moments." 
 
 " No, no," said the man, speaking in a stronger tone 
 than he had heretofore used. " As I have sown, so must 
 I reap. Mr. Mason, I have on me some hundreds of dol- 
 lars ; I give them to you to be used for her benefit. Find 
 her some quiet home where she can live in peace until she 
 can return to England." 
 
 " I will," said Edward, much moved by the intensity of 
 the man's utterance. " I will treat her as I would my own 
 sister. But would it not be better to send her at once 
 through the lines, and let her join her family without delay ? " 
 
 " No, I say no ! " almost screamed the man ; " what, 
 give her, before I am cold, to that Harcourt. They will 
 be happy enough as it is, when they hear I am dead." 
 He shuddered as he spoke ; " I am cold, give me some 
 more spirits ; more, more," for the physician gave it to him 
 in a spoon. " There is no danger of my dying a drunk- 
 ard," and he broke into a sneering laugh. Ineffably dis- 
 gusted, Edward made a motion to rise. The dying wretch 
 clutched him by the arm. 
 
 " Don't leave me, I would pray, if I thought my prayer 
 would be answered. The prayers of the righteous avail 
 much, they say ; perhaps some fiend from hell will answer 
 mine." 
 
 "Wretched man! " exclaimed Edward, " think, in a few 
 short minutes you will stand before your God. If you 
 have suffered wrong, forgive, as you hope to be forgiven. " 
 
 " Forgive ! forgive !" muttered the other, his voice grow- 
 ing feebler and feebler, while his hand pulled idly at the 
 blanket thrown over him. Spirits were poured down his
 
 THE CANNY SCOT. 253 
 
 throat this time in quantities. For an instant it gave him 
 strength. 
 
 " Listen," he said. " From my birth I have been a 
 pariah illegitimate. The sins of the father have been, in 
 my case, visited on the child. There is no vice of which I 
 am not guilty. There was but one bright spot, my love 
 for her. Of that he robbed me. No, in this I do him 
 wrong. It never was mine. Now, with my last word I 
 say, were a long life mine, or might I sup this night in 
 Paradise, I would give it all to see him lying dead by my 
 side. Adieu." 
 
 In the strong excitement of his words he had raised 
 his head, which now fell heavily back, as his breathing 
 grew more and more labored. 
 
 " It is over," said Edward, rising to his feet and ad- 
 dressing the doctor who stood by. 
 
 " Not yet," said the man, " the carl will breathe some 
 time yet. He will never speak more. Ye are not used to 
 such scenes, Captain Mason. Ye had better come to my 
 quarters and take a hot punch to cheer ye a bit. There's 
 nae use in staying by sich a freckless loon, with the death 
 rattle in his throat." Edward cast a long look on Quincey, 
 whose breathing grew each moment shorter and shorter, 
 then turned for an explanation as to how he had been 
 wounded. 
 
 The explanation was simple. Their orders had been 
 to treat him kindly but not to allow him to escape. For 
 more than two hours he had sat patiently by the stove 
 without making a motion or uttering a word. Suddenly he 
 darted to the door. The sentinel outside hearing the cry 
 of " stop him ! stop him ! " fired, and Quincey dropped.
 
 254 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " I'll nae say," muttered the Scotch surgeon as he 
 carefully arranged his instruments in their case " I'll nae 
 say I am not ower kind-hearted. Had the case been at 
 St. Bat, there's mony a man would have amputated at the 
 thigh joint. 'Tis a hard thing, Captain Mason, to be too 
 soft-hearted. Ye dinna rise in your profession, de ye ken 
 that ? " 
 
 " Why did you not do it," said Mason sternly ; " it was 
 your duty to save the man's life." 
 
 " I am na so sure about the saving," said the cautious 
 Scot ; " it is my ain opinion, he'd a died under the knife. 
 The shock is ower great for the constitution. Then the 
 bullet lodged somewhere in the great intestine. I'll na 
 use medical terms, for ye wouldn't understand me if I did, 
 but inflammation would have done the business after all." 
 
 Mason felt deadly sick and longed for the fresh air ; 
 the doctor, his amputating case under his arm, kept close 
 by his side. 
 
 " 'Tis for aye the same old story, Captain Mason. 
 Wine, women, and play they bring mony a pretty fellow 
 to a sae ending. Ye maun cum in and we will have a 
 brew, not to get fou, but as Tommy Burns has it ye hae 
 heard of Tommy, na doubt. 'Jist a drappy in our e'e.' " 
 
 " You are very kind," said Mason, " but I am worn out 
 with fatigue, and perhaps the General " 
 
 " Deel dout him," interrupted the other ; " he's a carl 
 loon, is the General. But I mind the time well, and its 
 nae so lang since ether, he nae have left good company 
 till the cock crow. Ye mind the old story, Captain Mason, 
 and it was my ain forbear as said it. He was a licensed 
 preacher, and he gave it to his flock somewhat in this wise.
 
 THE CANNY SCOT. 255 
 
 It was way up in Perthshire 'tis a sour country is the 
 Hill country, and the carls were nae muckle afraid to 
 keep the damp out. 
 
 " Ye maun hai," he said, " be aye dram, dramming. But 
 when ye have a friend, or the night's owna cold, or any 
 other reason, ye can take a wee drap, 'for the stomach's 
 sake.' I'll nae say St. Paul was nae a reasonable man. 
 But ye must be owna careful of the sin of dram, dram- 
 ming." Dragging Mason after him, perhaps nothing loath, 
 he mounted the stairs to the quarters he occupied. 
 
 " There, ye'll nae find sich a tipple in the States. It's 
 real Glenlivet. Rax me the kittle fra the hob, I aye keep 
 it on the simmer." 
 
 Mason was amused by the original character of the 
 man he had encountered. There was, with all his rattle, a 
 constraint which sat ill on him, and as Mason studied his 
 face, he saw in it the lines and marks of a dissipated life. 
 After they had commenced their second punch, Mason 
 expressed, in a civil way, his astonishment at finding a 
 Scotchman engaged as surgeon in the American service. 
 It was as the man had said in the commencement of their 
 interview, but the old story, " wine, women, and play." 
 Reckless, at last he found himself a homeless wanderer in 
 the new world. Accident threw him in the way of General 
 Brown, then holding a subordinate position on the staff of 
 the Commander-in-chief of the American army. The tact 
 and kindness of General Brown weaned him from his evil 
 habits, and he had followed him to the settlement which 
 the former was making in the wild Black River country, 
 and settled down into a hum-drum country physician. It 
 was but natural he should become the surgeon on the staff
 
 256 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 of the General, who had organized the militia of the new 
 district, and as naturally he followed his regiment when 
 they were ordered into service by the governor of the 
 State. 
 
 " I'll nae say, Captain Mason, it was not agin the grain, 
 when I heard the ' blue bonnets were over the border.' 
 But I aye comfort myself wi' the reflection," and the 
 man's eyes twinkled with sly humor as he spoke, " that 
 there's deel a one of them all will kill more of you Yankees, 
 with 'brown Bess,' than I may do, if I have luck with the 
 scalpel and the pill-box. Take a wee drap more, Captain 
 Mason, afore you gie out in the cold. You are tired and 
 excited, and I will give you a composing draught that will 
 make you sleep." 
 
 " Many thanks, my good sir," Edward answered with 
 a laugh as he rose to take his departure. " But after your 
 frank confession I prefer to trust to nature." 
 
 " You are a sharp laddie," the Doctor said, wringing 
 warmly the hand extended to him. " I ken that well, 
 and as one of our new Scotch poets says, 
 
 "And if \ho\igoest among the rest 
 With Scottish broadsword to be blest, 
 Sharp be the brand and sure the blow 
 And short the pang to undergo." 
 
 The sun had long risen before Edward woke Harcourt 
 from the deep sleep which he had kept uninterruptedly 
 during the night. It needed but a glance at Mason's 
 smiling face to tell the young Englishman that he was not 
 to stand before a firing party that morning. 
 
 " So one more day added to the list, I see," Harcourt
 
 THE CANNY SCOT. 257 
 
 said sadly, rising and seating himself on the side of the 
 bed. 
 
 " Many, very many, I trust, my dear Harcourt," an- 
 swered Edward ; " my orders are to send you through the 
 lines you are on parole until exchanged." 
 
 For some moments Harcourt sat silent, then he arose 
 and walked to the window and stood looking on the 
 bright morning sunshine, glancing back from the white 
 surface of the snow. When he turned, his lips quivered 
 and a tear trickled down his cheek. 
 
 " God is very kind, Edward. May he bless you and 
 yours. That wretched man, I trust he has been released." 
 
 " Yes, by death," Edward answered, and briefly related 
 the circumstances of the night. Harcourt heard him 
 through in silence ; he walked slowly up and down the 
 room several times, then stopped in front of his compan- 
 ion and said : 
 
 " Will you act for her, Lucy, I mean, as you said you 
 would, before my wretched advent ? " 
 
 11 Yes." 
 
 " Add one more to the many obligations I am under. 
 Take from me a sufficient sum of money, and place it in 
 such hands that, until I can make other arrangements, she 
 will be above want. Time must elapse before Lucy and I 
 can meet. I feel now as if there were blood on my hands." 
 
 " My dear Harcourt, dismiss such an idea from your 
 mind. You were not even remotely the cause of that 
 wretched man's death." 
 
 Harcourt did not answer, he had turned again to the 
 window, and it was some moments before he could con- 
 trol his feelings sufficiently to speak. Then he said :
 
 258 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " Edward, my trust in you is as unbounded as my 
 gratitude. I leave Lucy in your hands, only see she does 
 not want for any thing that money can buy. Your looks 
 tell me you are impatient to be gone. Tell that Eph., that 
 man of yours, to come here, he has been in and out several 
 times during the night. I should like to appear like a 
 gentleman, even if I am a prisoner." 
 
 " I will send him, with pleasure, my dear Harcourt, but 
 Eph. has not the mildest idea of what constitutes a valet." 
 
 " He can steal for me a clean shirt, I make no doubt," 
 replied the otherwith a laugh; " I want you to present me 
 to that General of yours. I was impertinent to him last 
 night, and I wish to make my excuse. He is a brave 
 soldier, if ever there was one, you can see it in his eye. 
 How it flashed as I made that boyish speech ! " 
 
 " I can present you easily enough to the General, as he 
 told me to ask you if you would breakfast with him this 
 morning." 
 
 " I esteem the honor greatly. But, my dear fellow, how 
 strange are life's vicissitudes. A suspected spy, a con- 
 demned prisoner, and now but if I am to appear as a decent 
 man, let alone in the character of a gentleman, please let 
 that man of yours steal that shirt and one more favor, do 
 you not think there is some vessel which contains a little, a 
 very little, more water in the house than this." 
 
 Harcourt made his apologies, and thanked the General 
 with the calm quiet a'r of a man thoroughly at home in 
 every class of society. He related, with perfect frankness, 
 the means he had used to enter the village of Sackett's 
 Harbor, and concluded by saying 
 
 " 1 was not aware how very closely allied the inhabitants
 
 THE CANNY SCOT. 259 
 
 of each district were, General, until my experience on this 
 little trip." 
 
 " I suppose not," replied the General. " Those are 
 facts carefully kept from the knowledge of ' men in power.' 
 Smuggling goes on, I know, to a great extent. The perfect 
 blockade which your government now are making so 
 stringent, has made luxuries very costly. But to change 
 the subject, where have you served ? " 
 
 When the natural shyness and reserve of his dis- 
 position wore off, Harcourt was a capital talker. He 
 had served on the staff in Spain, and had been a party to 
 the masterly retreat of the British into the lines of " Torres 
 Vedras." His description of Spanish character, and of the 
 almost insurmountable difficulties under which the British 
 commander had labored, was interesting in the extreme. 
 Accident had brought him in contact with more than one of 
 the French Marshals commanding in Spain, and the con- 
 trasts he drew between these celebrated men were life-like 
 in their outline. 
 
 Charmed as Edward was by this conversation, which 
 opened a life of which before he had been ignorant, he 
 was still more struck with the intelligent and remarkable 
 knowledge which General Brown displayed on all the sub- 
 jects connected with the different armies, and the countries 
 in which they were engaged. Several times he corrected 
 Harcourt in some trivial matter connected with the geog- 
 raphy of the battle grounds ; so much so, that the young 
 Englishman expressed his surprise and belief that he must 
 have visited the locality. 
 
 " No, I have not," said the general, smiling, " I have 
 never had the good fortune of travelling. My information,
 
 26O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 crude and slight as it is, has been drawn solely from books 
 and an occasional conversation with some one as intelli- 
 gent as yourself." 
 
 He paused a moment, and glanced out of the window 
 at a sleigh which had stopped before the house ; and then 
 continued in a different tone of voice 
 
 " Captain Harcourt, there is a pass in my handwriting, 
 yonder is a sleigh with a soldier in attendance, they will 
 take you to ." He named some point on the Ca- 
 nada line. " I have your parole not to serve until ex- 
 changed. No, not one word," he said, interrupting the young 
 man, who, blushing deeply, was about speaking. " If she 
 loves you she will wait; if not, 'one nail drives out an- 
 other,' as your French friends say. Captain Mason will 
 see you off. Good-by. Perhaps we may meet again." He 
 held out his hand as he spoke and immediately left the 
 room. 
 
 It was a long dreary ride that cold day to the point se- 
 lected, and Harcourt's only companions were his thoughts. 
 The reaction had set in, the nerves so long strung began to 
 give way. It is so easy to meet sorrow in company, but 
 when solitude comes, to look at the future alone, and at 
 twenty-six, the future has a dim, distant look, very hard to 
 meet. Harcourt was powerless. His good sense told him 
 that the kindness of General Brown had saved him from 
 what, under ordinary circumstances, would have been a 
 fatal folly. Then he had in a manner given his word ; he 
 could only strain his eyes until they ached to catch the last 
 glimpse of the little village in which she was staying.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV. 
 
 A WOMAN'S ESTIMATE. 
 
 " To sigh, yet feel no pain ; 
 To weep, yet scarce know why." 
 
 BROWNING. 
 
 jjjIBYL was enchanted at the idea of having a 
 companion, and as Edward had painted Mrs. 
 Quincey's forlorn and helpless condition, her at- 
 tractive person and accomplished manners, in 
 
 glowing colors, her reception at D was warm in the 
 
 extreme. 
 
 Doctor Spencer, who, to the delight and astonishment 
 of physician and friends, had apparently taken a new lease 
 of life, was charmed by the bright, lively conversation of 
 the young Englishwoman. She had passed so much of her 
 earlier life among scenes and places of which the Doctor 
 had only read, that to have described by an intelligent and 
 well-educated eyewitness, the wonders of the old world, its 
 cathedrals, its galleries, its palaces, was a never-ending 
 source of pleasure. 
 
 Kind-hearted and affectionate, Lucy's happiness grew 
 with the happiness she was giving. Like all women 
 of her temperament, she unconsciously caught the tone 
 and feelings of the hour, and of those with whom she as- 
 sociated. The gentle, loving, holy nature of Doctor 
 Spencer his wonderful powers of imparting information 
 
 (261)
 
 262 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 and instruction, while he seemed only desirous of whiling 
 away the present hour, opened to his young guest a new 
 life of hopes and joys and pleasures. Ever anxious to 
 render Mrs. Quincey at ease with herself, an effort was 
 made to procure pupils for her in music. The only one 
 who really profited by her knowledge was Sibyl herself. 
 The dreamy spiritual nature of the girl made her keenly 
 alive to the power of music, and, as under Lucy's able in- 
 struction her natural gifts developed rapidly, a new world 
 seemed to be opened to her. It seemed to her as if there 
 were thoughts and hopes which before had been unknown. 
 It is rare to find this characteristic among native Ameri- 
 cans. The keen, practical character of the people, the stern, 
 self-asserting life, the continual struggle in which for years 
 all classes have been engaged first in rescuing a land from 
 the savagery of nature, then in building up the foundations 
 of an empire, its laws, its commerce, every thing, in short, 
 which a new people require, had developed the practical 
 rather than the esthetical side of 'their natures. But this 
 feeling, if anywhere, is more apt to be found in the Puritan 
 element in New England. Its very religion is mystical. 
 In no other section did the church itself so soon become 
 infused with the social and political " isms " of the day. 
 Rationalistic Spiritualism had grown apace, and even those 
 who would be least suspected, had caught the infection of 
 the hour. 
 
 It was easy to see that Sibyl found in music a supposed 
 medium, by which her spirit was placed in close communi- 
 cation with that of her lover. The Doctor's delicate health 
 and his self-absorption, prevented him from clearly no- 
 ticing the growing dreamy state of his child. Not so
 
 A WOMAN'S ESTIMATE. 263 
 
 with her mother. In all the practical matters of life, Mrs. 
 Spencer saw most clearly, and when she saw, she did not 
 hesitate to speak. 
 
 Mrs. Spencer found a ready confidant in her old friend, 
 Mr. Hamilton. Proud and self-contained man as he was, 
 his hopeless love for Sibyl showed itself in his utter ina- 
 bility to remain any length of time away from her presence. 
 It caused him intense pain to be with her and not show his 
 love ; but it caused him still more to keep himself from her 
 society. 
 
 The winter had dragged its slow length along, spring 
 had come " to bless the glad ground," and had merged 
 itself into summer. In no part of America is this 
 season more lovely than on the rough hillsides of New 
 England. 
 
 " For the Queen of the Spring as she passes down the vale, 
 Leaves her robe on the trees, and her breath on the gale." 
 
 For some days Mrs. Spencer had been on the watch for 
 Mr. Hamilton, and he was shown that morning into the 
 library, or, as was the fashion of that day to call it, the 
 Doctor's study. After the formal salutations to which old- 
 fashioned people still clung, had been gone through with, 
 Mrs. Spencer introduced the subject which, for the mo- 
 ment, lay closest to her thoughts. 
 
 " Ah me ! Mr. Hamilton," she said at length after a 
 long pause " ah me ! it is a hard thing to bear unrepin- 
 ingly the visitations of a kind Providence. To see the 
 husband of your youth slowly fading away like the grass 
 which grows up and is cut down like a flower." 
 
 Mrs. Spencer was famous for getting her metaphors
 
 264 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 mixed. Still there was deep, unaffected grief in the old 
 lady's heart, and Mr.Hamilton warmly showed his sympa- 
 thy. 
 
 " But, Mr. Hamilton," Mrs. Spencer continued, " it was 
 not so much to speak about the Doctor that I got them to 
 show you in here, as it was of Sibyl. I am strangely 
 alarmed about that child." 
 
 " My dear madam," said the gentleman, at once all at- 
 tention, " you disturb me greatly. What has happened ? 
 This long separation from Edward, I suppose ? " 
 
 " Of course that is at the bottom of it. You see, Mr. 
 Hamilton, she has not been the same girl since that Mrs. 
 Quincey came here. I am sure I do not want to say any 
 thing about a woman who has had so many trials, passed 
 through the furnace like, just as the Doctor used to de- 
 scribe those three good men in the book of Daniel. You 
 remember the sermon doubtless. The consistory asked to 
 have it printed. The hardest trial, Mr. Hamilton, of my 
 life, has been to see Jeems wasting his life." 
 
 " Yes, my dear madam," interrupted the gentleman, 
 dreading, as did all Mrs. Spencer's friends, an outbreak on 
 so prolific a subject of grievance. " The Doctor would 
 command in any situation, as he does here, the unqualified 
 admiration of his friends. But you were saying you 
 thought Mrs. Quincey " 
 
 " Ah, yes, the hateful minx ! I hope the Lord will pardon 
 me for showing temper, and in my own house too. But 
 do you know that somehow I fear Edward may have shown 
 a little too much attention to her, and thus have made 
 Sibyl unhappy." 
 
 " Nonsense, my dear Madam. Edward is a fine, manly,
 
 A WOMAN'S ESTIMATE. 265 
 
 noble-hearted fellow, who has grown up with Sibyl, and 
 whose every thought and aspiration is centred in her. Be- 
 sides, my dear madam, you are unkind to this young lady. 
 I have watched Mrs. Quincey closely, and I am convinced 
 she has no other desire than, what any pretty, attractive 
 woman has,. to be as charming as she can." 
 
 " Oh, that is just the way with all you men," interrupted 
 Mrs. Spencer pettishly. " A pretty face covers a multi- 
 tude of sins. Not that I mean to say any thing bad of 
 Lucy, only she can't see a man and leave him alone." 
 
 Mr. Hamilton burst out into a hearty laugh. 
 
 " Am I, my dear Mrs. Spencer, also infected with this 
 subtile poison?" 
 
 " Oh, you may laugh," said Mrs. Spencer, her momen- 
 tary anger passed, and joining in his merriment ; " but you 
 don't see her as I do. There's the Doctor, now. He won't 
 have any thing but this Frenchified soup." 
 
 " Bouillon," suggested the other. 
 
 " Yes ; that is what she calls it. For my part I do not 
 believe it is a bit better than good old honest broth, 
 there ! and she will sit and laugh and talk with him for 
 an hour together, then turn right round and play the 
 agreeable to old Deacon Knapp. So that the old fool sits 
 and gazes at her for an hour at a time." 
 
 " Ton my word, Mrs. Spencer, I did not give you credit 
 for so much humor. I sincerely trust your observations 
 have not stopped here." 
 
 "Oh, your turn will come," said the lady, pleased with 
 the compliment. " After she's got through with the Dea- 
 con she tries her hand at young Griswold, who is always 
 coming here to see the Doctor, as he says. But he's
 
 266 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 got only one more day's leave, so he's safe. Would 
 you believe it," continued the lady, laying her hand 
 on Mr. Hamilton's arm to make the remark more im- 
 pressive, " it was only yesterday I found her singing a 
 Scotch song to our Sam. You know the little nigger boy 
 who has taken Eph's. place to do the odd chores. And 
 there he stood grinning with delight until I thought his 
 eyes would start out of his head. Now don't tell me she 
 is not a flirt, and to try the Doctor too ! " 
 
 " My dear madam," said Mr. Hamilton, endeavoring 
 to restrain the evidences of his amusement, " do you not 
 think you are unnecessarily severe on a very charming 
 woman ? You must remember, Mrs. Spencer, the great dif- 
 ference there is in the usages of the society in which she 
 has moved to ours." 
 
 " I don't think, Mr. Hamilton, that I am unaccustomed 
 to the usages of polite society." 
 
 " Far be it from me, my dear madam, to insinuate such 
 a thing. But you will allow me to remind you how aston- 
 ished you were at the description which I was able to give, 
 on my return, from the short visit I made to England, of 
 the wealth, frivolity and dissipation of their upper classes. 
 I, of course, mean those only to whom society is all in 
 all." 
 
 " Of course, Mr. Hamilton, I make all due allowance. 
 I remember well how charming all your descriptions were. 
 But I am sure in no society would manners like hers meet 
 with general approval." 
 
 " I have watched her most attentively," said the other, 
 " and I can see nothing more than the pretty ways of a 
 pretty woman."
 
 A WOMAN'S ESTIMATE. 267 
 
 " Pretty woman ! there it is again," replied Mrs. Spen- 
 cer scornfully. " You were at Major Baylies' the other 
 evening. Now, the Major comes of a good old Connecti- 
 cut family. A family that's got a right to hold up its head 
 as high as any in the Union. It is a great pity, as the 
 Doctor says, he should have turned Democrat for the sake 
 of the post-office. But that has nothing to do with what I 
 was saying. The chit of a girl, for she is but a girl after 
 after all, sails into the room, as if it all belonged to her. 
 In one moment every man was doing something for her. 
 Deacon Knapp, acting like the old fool he is, Young 
 Griswold, his eyes starting out of his head, and looking 
 as if he had never been in a parlor before. He's 
 been abroad too, and ought to know something of society, 
 although he did spend most of his time in a French prison 
 while he was there. And you you, who ought to know 
 something of the world you, who have been a senator, 
 and are the leading man of your State I noticed you 
 were excessively attentive in handing her a chair. I ver- 
 rily believe if Sam had been there she would have had him 
 doing something, and would have smiled upon him just the 
 same as she did on the rest of you." 
 
 Mr. Hamilton got up from his chair and walked to the 
 window. It was impossible for him to retain any appear- 
 ance of gravity, the picture was so true to nature. Grave, 
 severe man of the world as he was, the admired orator, the 
 stern statesman, that one evening came back to him. He 
 had made one or two remarks to Lucy Quincey, as he 
 brought her some refreshment from the dining-room into 
 the parlor where she resolutely kept her seat. Well, take 
 it as a whole, he trusted she did not remember them.
 
 268 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 He fervently prayed Mrs. Spencer's sharp ears had not 
 overheard them. He hesitated a moment as he said 
 
 " Mrs. Spencer, you were speaking when I first came in 
 of Sibyl's health. Are you seriously alarmed about her?" 
 
 " Oh yes, Sibyl. There now, that is just the thing I 
 wished to talk to you about, and this chatter about Lucy 
 put it out of my head. Seriously alarmed, no, but I do not 
 understand the child. She talks in a way that completely 
 puts me at my wit's end." 
 
 " How so. Please explain ? " 
 
 " You know, Mr. Hamilton, Sibyl has always been a 
 dreamy character. As a girl, she would walk round as if 
 she were in a maze. Then she has studied every thing 
 with the Doctor until she is more like a man than a young 
 girl. I don't believe she can make a pudding, and when 
 she is married how she is ever, if she goes to live in New 
 York, to lay by her winter's preserves, without me, is a 
 mystery. And she's going to marry a poor man, too. 
 Dear me, dear me. It is all very well to read Latin and 
 Greek and all that, but you men value a good cook more 
 in the long run, I can tell you." 
 
 " Yes, yes, my dear madam," interrupted the other, his 
 impatience showing itself, despite his habitual punctilious- 
 ness of manner. " Do come to the point. What is the 
 matter with Sibyl ? " 
 
 Mrs. Spencer stared at him in wonder. In an ac- 
 quaintance of thirty years she had never before heard Mr. 
 Hamilton's voice change in its low tone of deference when 
 speaking to a woman. 
 
 " Lor', Mr. Hamilton, how you start a body. Where 
 was I. Oh, Sibyl, more dreamy than ever. Now she's
 
 A WOMAN'S ESTIMATE. 269 
 
 always playing on that piano. I love a nice lively tune 
 very well myself, and on the evening before the Lord's 
 day, some solemn quiet psalm. That will fit your soul for 
 the duties of the sanctuary. This plaguey Lucy has taught 
 her a lot of German what do you call them ? " 
 
 " Symphonies." 
 
 " Yes, symphonies, and then she will sit by the hour, 
 drum, drum, drum, then trill, then a little run, then it com- 
 mences over again. She says it speaks to her the lessons 
 of the heart. Now, I notice that Lucy gets her lessons a 
 great deal quicker than Sibyl does. What does it mean, 
 Mr. Hamilton ? It's beyond my poor wits. You ought to 
 know you know every thing." 
 
 The poor old lady's eyes filled with tears as she looked 
 up imploringly, seeing an evil, but helpless to probe the 
 deep, sensitive nature of her child. 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Spencer, my old friendship for your 
 family has made me more than ordinarily attentive to the 
 character and mental qualifications of your daughter. 
 Sibyl is of an extraordinarily delicate and sensitive organi- 
 zation. In being separated from the playmate of her 
 childhood, as well as the lover of her youth, her nervous 
 system has received a shock. The constant state of ex- 
 citement and anxiety, the fearful idea which hovers over 
 her, that at any moment hope may be gone for ever, has 
 made her brood in silence rather than seek, as many women 
 would do." 
 
 " I am sure if Sibyl has a hard fate" interrupted 
 her mother, " what have I ! Haven't I seen her father 
 dying before my eyes by inches, as it were ! Don't I love 
 that boy as if he were my own son ! Have I missed one
 
 27O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 of my duties ! Does not the house go on just as it used 
 to ! Is not there enough to eat ! And is not my heart on 
 the point of breaking ! " 
 
 Sobs choked her voice. No one felt more acutely for 
 another than Mr. Hamilton did for his old friend. But 
 there was something indescribably ridiculous in this ming- 
 ling of shrewdness and simplicity, strong common sense 
 and the little jealousies of a woman. 
 
 " My dear madam," he said, taking her hand kindly, 
 " cheer up. The Doctor now seems as if he had taken a 
 new lease of life, and as for as for Sibyl, change of 
 scene and air is what she requires. I will try and see if 
 I cannot induce these two girls to make a little trip with 
 me. You won't be afraid to trust them under rriy charge 
 for a day or two ? " 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Hamilton ! why should we. You who feel 
 like a father towards our girl." She stopped suddenly. 
 The remembrance of the hopes she had formed, the one 
 vision of her daughter's life she had pictured. Deeply 
 anxious not to wound, she only made things worse by 
 stammering out 
 
 " I mean you who are old enough to be her father, you 
 know." 
 
 Again she checked herself. Mr. Hamilton's face had 
 flushed deeply. He turned away for a moment. It was 
 but a moment. When he spoke his voice was, if anything, 
 more gentle, more soft than usual. Mrs. Spencer's quick 
 ear distinguished the deep sadness which the accomplished 
 gentleman sought to hide, true to the faith which was in 
 him. 
 
 " Mrs. Spencer, the human heart is an anomaly which
 
 A WOMAN S ESTIMATE, 
 
 defies the inspection of the profoundest philosophers. 
 Two years since, led away by a passion I could not re- 
 strain, I spoke words of love in short I offered my heart 
 and hand to Sibyl." 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Hamilton, I never knew, I never thought 
 Sibyl never said " 
 
 " Naturally, my dear madam. To such a character, 
 so perfect, so pure, the idea of giving pain is simply im- 
 possible. When in the kindest, most loving way she show- 
 ed me I never could be any thing to her but her father's 
 dearest, oldest friend, I asked that place, and as God is 
 my judge, Arthur Hamilton will be true to his plighted 
 word.
 
 CHAPTER XXV. 
 
 UNDER THE ELMS. 
 
 " Pray heaven for a human heart, 
 And let the foolish yeoman go." 
 
 TENNYSON. 
 
 R. HAMILTON had seen, while standing by the 
 window, the two persons who had formed the 
 subject of their conversation. The old elm 
 trees, which fringed the church-yard, threw a 
 shade which, even in the hottest noonday, made this side 
 of the house attractive. Mr. Hamilton recalled how, even 
 as a child, Sibyl had loved to make this spot her play- 
 ground. To her the presence of the tombstones, marking 
 as they did the spot " where the rude forefathers of the 
 hamlet slept," had no terrors. 
 
 As he stood and watched her from the open window, 
 he was struck with the change which a year had wrought. 
 Her form had lost its roundness. Graceful she always would 
 be, but there was an air of languor in her movements, and 
 her face had no longer the fresh look of health and youth. 
 With a sigh of pain Mr. Hamilton turned from the window, 
 determined to join the two women. As he came near he 
 was still more struck with the change in Sibyl's appearance. 
 (272)
 
 UNDER THE ELMS. 273 
 
 Her large, soft eyes were dreamy in their expression, her 
 face was pale and drawn, and on either cheek was a small 
 bright red spot. Ah, how well he knew the sign ! The 
 curse of New England, consumption, had seized her for its 
 
 Prey- 
 Softly, and with the gentle manner which in its utter 
 
 absence of coquetting made it irresistible, she held out her 
 hand. The strong man actually shuddered as he noticed 
 the transparency of the slender fingers which for a moment 
 lay passive in his grasp. Forcing himself to put on an 
 air of half gallantry, which for the moment sat unaturally 
 on him, he said 
 
 " I am come as an ambassador, or rather I should per- 
 haps say, as a suppliant, to solicit a boon from the ladies 
 of my love." 
 
 Lucy Quincey's merry laugh rang out clear as a bird's, 
 as throwing back her head with a mock heroic air, she 
 asked 
 
 " Offer a divided allegiance. ' Under which king, Ben- 
 zoin. Speak or die. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Hamilton stole a look at Sibyl. Her face had 
 brightened a little at the merry laugh and mimic action of 
 her friend. Her eye met his, quietly, kindly as of old, but 
 there was no spark of coquetry there. He was her father's 
 friend and her own. What would he not have given to 
 have seen but the faintest shade cross that pale soft cheek 
 at the gay badinage of her friend. 
 
 " Age has but few privileges, my dear young lady," he 
 answered, resuming the calm courtly manner which sat so 
 well on him. " But among the few it possesses, the one I 
 most highly value is the right to love respectfully every 
 
 18
 
 274 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 young woman, particularly when it is united," and he held 
 out his hand to Sibyl, " with almost the claim of a father." 
 
 Lucy did not answer. Her face flushed a little, and 
 she shot one glance under the long lashes which fringed her 
 eyes. It was a look at which many a man would have 
 thrilled. 
 
 Arthur Hamilton was mortal. For one short moment 
 he had forgotten his fifty odd years, his well-earned honors, 
 his proud position. The nameless spell a woman weaves, 
 the sorcery of her presence, the subtile intoxication which 
 the very air we breathe with her carries with it, had swept 
 away the barriers and made him forget himself. It was 
 only for a moment. The glance passed harmless by, and 
 Lucy felt that now, at least, her power was gone. She 
 colored still more, and with rather an embarrassed air, 
 said 
 
 " As we both belong to the Reformed, or I should say, 
 Protesting faith, Mr. Hamilton, your fatherly feelings can 
 have nothing to do with our woman secrets. What then 
 is this boon you crave ? " 
 
 " Simply this. Sibyl, for two years or more, has been 
 shut up in this little country town. I have proposed to her 
 mother, now that her father has so far recovered as to be 
 safely trusted to Mrs. Spencer's nursing alone, that you 
 two ladies should pay me a visit of a week or more in New 
 Haven. There is but little to offer in the way of gayety, 
 but it will be a change, and perhaps bring back the bright 
 look your face used to wear, Sibyl." 
 
 " You are very kind, Mr. Hamilton. A change will 
 amuse Lucy, even if it be to so provincial a town as New 
 Haven. As for me, I do not feel as I formerly did. There
 
 UNDER THE ELMS. 275 
 
 is a load here she placed her hand on her heart as she 
 spoke which I cannot shake off. Perhaps a change may 
 break the spell." 
 
 The "arrangements for the little trip were soon made, 
 and as they turned to enter the house they met Deacon 
 Knapp coming out of the door There was an embarrassed, 
 and at the same time an almost dogged look on his rugged 
 features, which struck Mrs. Quincey forcibly. He was 
 dressed with unusual care, and it was evident he had made 
 up his mind to take a decided stand on some subject which 
 had troubled him deeply. 
 
 Lucy colored violently as she saw the deacon, caused 
 as much by the slight smile which ran over the features of 
 both her companions. It was not in her nature, however, 
 to resist an appeal to sentiment, even when it came in the 
 person of a rough, middle-aged New England farmer. Her 
 eyelids dropped a little and her face took on the soft air 
 peculiar to her, as she held out her hand and wished the 
 old man good morning. 
 
 " Morning marm. Your sarvant, Mr. Hamilton. Sibyl, 
 child, you looked peaked this morning. I have got 
 no news for you to-day. This ain't post day, you re- 
 member." 
 
 " You are ever welcome, Deacon, as you know. Doubly 
 so, when kindness to the sick and suffering only prompts 
 your visits. Have you seen my father yet ? " 
 
 " I ain't going to take credit to myself when credit 
 ain't disarved, Sibyl. It wasn't to see the Doctor, nor you, 
 nor even your mar, what brought me here this morning." 
 
 He paused, holding the hand which Lucy had extended 
 firmly in his grasp. Mr. Hamilton, feeling keenly the em-
 
 276 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 barrassment of the situation, moved carelessly from the 
 group and entered the house. The Deacon looked after 
 him in silence until his form had disappeared, and then 
 said 
 
 " I have fit agin this feeling, Sibyl, until I can fight no 
 longer. I want to ask this lady a plain question, to which 
 I hope she'll give as plain an answer. There is no better 
 time than the present. Might I ask the favor of your 
 leaving us a spell ? " 
 
 There was nothing for Sibyl to do but to assent. Dis- 
 regarding Lucy's pleading look and muttered objection, 
 Sibyl in her turn followed Mr. Hamilton into the house. 
 The two stood alone in the bright, clear sunshine. 
 
 Lucy by this time had disengaged her hand, and draw- 
 ing somewhat back, made a motion as if to shield her eyes 
 from the sun, saying 
 
 " Oh, Mr. Knapp, why are you so stern to me. Why 
 do you speak to me in such a tone and before such a man 
 as Mr. Hamilton." 
 
 She was ready to fly at once to a woman's never- 
 failing resource, tears ; she had gone too far, and, keenly 
 alive to the blame of others, she shrank under the slight 
 sarcastic smile which she saw curl the lip of Mr. Hamil- 
 ton as he left them. 
 
 " It is of no use," said the Deacon, dropping the vul- 
 garity which generally pervaded his speech, and speaking 
 in .strong, manly English, although still with the accent 
 peculiar to New England. " It is of no use, Mrs. Quincey, 
 trying to fight against destiny. Will you seat yourself on 
 this bench. My say will soon be said." 
 
 There was no escape, and Lucy almost sank on the
 
 UNDER THE ELMS. 277 
 
 bench under the big elm tree, bitterly regretting the silly 
 vanity which had made her play with the rough, strong 
 nature of the man who stood before her. 
 
 " Mrs. Quincey, ma'am, You have been living amongst 
 us going on now five months and better. You came down 
 here in distress and affliction. The story which came 
 with you, said you had been an injured and persecuted 
 woman ; that you were alone in the world ; that you had 
 to fight, and strain, and toil for the bread you needed to 
 sustain life. And you told me the last time you and I 
 talked together that you never expected, even in your 
 dreams, to cross the ocean again, but that this land was to 
 be your land and this people your people as long as you 
 lived. Am I right so far ? " 
 
 Lucy fairly gasped as she uttered the one word "Yes." 
 What was she to do ! What strange power was the rough 
 old country farmer about to exercise over her ! 
 
 " Then I have come to ask you in plain words to be 
 my wife." 
 
 " Mr. Knapp, oh no, that cannot be. Not such a woman 
 as I am." 
 
 " Stop marm. Hear me through and then you can give 
 me you my answer. I am a plain country farmer I know. 
 I am sixty-three years old come next September, and I am 
 well off in this world's goods. My first wife has been dead 
 these twenty years, and it's the thought of her that's kept 
 me back ffom saying these words for many a day. Still, 
 nature has been too strong for me, and now they are 
 spoken." 
 
 " Please, please, Mr. Knapp," said Lucy interrupting 
 him, " do not say any thing more. You certainly do not
 
 278 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 want to wound and pain me. Surely, surely I do not de- 
 serve this at your hands." 
 
 Her coquetry was all gone now ; bitterly mortified, 
 her eyes full of real tears, she extended her hands in sup- 
 plication towards the stern old man, who stood almost as 
 a judge before her. 
 
 "I know it I know it! There is no fool, as Hamilton 
 said one day, like an old fool. Pain you. Well I'm not sartin 
 that a little pain would not do you good. Sally, my darter, 
 said this morning when we talked this over, that although 
 I had every right to seek my happiness in my own way, so 
 long as they were Christian ways, that I was running to 
 destruction. She had read you, and so had I for that mat- 
 ter. But I was blinded, dazed like, by what I had never 
 seen before." 
 
 Lucy strove to rise from the bench on which she sat. 
 Her eyes were now sparkling with anger,but the old Deacon, 
 whose strong character had broken through all ordinary 
 restraint, placed his hand on her shoulder and absolutely 
 forced her to resume 'her seat. 
 
 " Sir," said Lucy, now frightened as well as angry, " do 
 you mean to hurt me ? " 
 
 " Hurt you," said the grim old Puritan, looking down 
 on her, " no ; we don't hurt women in this land, not as yet. 
 You have given me a right to speak and speak I am going 
 to, if it be but to testify to my own shame." 
 
 " Surely, Mr. Knapp, there can be no necessity for this 
 violence of feeling. No person need ever know what has 
 occurred. We can still be friends. I am so poor in friends." 
 She had extended her hand as she spoke, and her eyes 
 shone with something of the old light.
 
 UNDER THE ELMS. 279 
 
 The eyes of the man hardened as he met the look. 
 
 "If I have done wrong, Mr. Knapp ; if my foolish 
 manner has led you to believe you will forgive me and 
 let me be to you as a " 
 
 " No, you shall be nothing to me," broke in the old 
 man. " Secret the world can know it all. Perhaps it 
 may save some other jackass from suffering as I suffer 
 now. Look at this I tell you all now." He pulled out 
 of his breast a withered flower and held it towards her as he 
 went on, "Four days ago you had this posy in your hair. 
 You gave a flower to that young minister who has taken 
 the Doctor's place, since he's been took ill. You gave it 
 to him from the bunch in your hand. But for me, you 
 took the one in your hair. You gave it with a look such 
 a look, marm, as a woman ought not to give but to one 
 man. Do you remember the scene ? " 
 
 Lucy was completely cowed. Never before had any 
 flirtation resulted in more than momentary pain. She 
 could only sit and gaze at this strange man. 
 
 " How my hand trembled as it touched yours, and how 
 I clenched it strongly lest some one should rob me of my 
 treasure. Old idiot that I was, I absolutely kissed that 
 flower when I was alone. I, who for twenty years had 
 never felt my blood thrill at a woman's look, felt a cold 
 shiver run through me as I met that look of yours. Poor 
 little flower. Pshaw ! " And the Deacon threw the rose 
 bud on the ground and stamped on it with his heel. 
 " There madam, your sarvant, I have said my say." 
 
 Deacon Knapp turned without a word more and walked 
 firmly to the garden gate. Without looking to the right hand 
 or to the left, he walked slowly down the street. It
 
 28O SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 was almost noon, and few of the inhabitants were to be 
 seen. It was a relief that he was alone. He was ashamed 
 at his violence, and dreaded the explanation which must 
 come when he met his daughter. He had broken the chain 
 which had bound him. The old feeling of love of reverence 
 for her that was gone was creeping back into his heart. 
 He thought of the empty chair. Would he have been con- 
 tent another should fill it. She was sleeping now within 
 a hundred feet of where he had asked that stranger about 
 whom he absolutely knew nothing, a mere girl compared 
 to him in years, younger than his own daughter to be his 
 wife. He stood still to stamp his foot in impotent rage 
 at his own folly. Then there came back to him the mem- 
 ory of an hour. It seemed almost yesterday in its vivid- 
 ness. By heavens ! the scene had taken place on the very 
 spot where he had left that woman seated. It was a com- 
 mon enough occurrence. A blue-eyed, fair haired Con- 
 necticut girl, with rosy cheeks and teeth like pearl. She 
 was leaning against that very elm tree. How the tree had 
 grown since then. She was pulling the petals from a daisy. 
 How sweet her voice was ! " One I love, two I love, three 
 I love, I say." What nonsense boys and girls talk, when 
 looked at by the experience of age and wordly wisdom. 
 Had he not ground to powder under his heel another 
 flower, given by another woman. His cheeks burned like 
 fire. How hot the day was ! 
 
 Sally sat there in the kitchen window sewing on 
 some of those everlasting things that babies wear. The 
 little fellow kicking up his heels and showing his chubby 
 little red legs as he lay on his back on the old sheepskin 
 on the sanded floor.
 
 UNDER THE ELMS. 28 1 
 
 The deacon had hung his hat in the passage-way. He 
 glanced round the room and saw he was alone with his 
 child. He dragged a chair close up to her and said 
 
 " Sally, you can call your old daddy a fool if you mind 
 to, and he'll take it kindly." 
 
 The woman glanced at him. She saw it all. She need- 
 ed no explanation. Softly she put her hand in his the 
 action spoke more than words. 
 
 " Sally, I used in my conceit to reckon myself a leader 
 in Israel. I called myself one of the elect. I was as 
 strong as Samson, yet I found a Delilah. But, Sally, she 
 came back to me. Your mother, I mean, girl, as I was walk- 
 ing out there in the glare of the hot sunshine. I saw her ; 
 she looked as fresh and younger, girl, than you do now. I 
 have sinned, Sally, in that I went after a strange woman 
 from a strange land, and I left the wife of my youth, the 
 mother of my children, for a girl who laughed at and despised 
 me. Sarves me right. You are mistress here, girl, until I 
 die." 
 
 He got up and walked to the door, then turning a 
 sheepish, penitent look on his daughter, said 
 
 " I am going to put the picture back over my bed. I 
 took it down yesterday. It was only one night. She will 
 forgive it, won't she ? She was just like you." 
 
 The daughter could only nod through her tears. 
 
 From that day to the day of his death the subject was 
 never again mentioned between them.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI. 
 
 THE VISION. 
 
 " of Nature's laws 
 So strong I held the force. 
 That never superhuman cause 
 Could e'er control their course," 
 
 SCOTT. 
 
 UCY QUINCEY crept rather than walked into 
 the house. She had never before been subjected 
 to such an ordeal. The victims of her leisure 
 hours had heretofore condoned her offences 
 with at least smiling faces. The wounds she had inflicted 
 may have remained green and sore for years. She had 
 not felt them, and she carelessly turned to new conquests. 
 But on this occasion it was widely different. A rough, 
 rude, but eminently masculine character had been played 
 with, courted, had been tempted by a thousand little arts 
 to break through the habits of a life, to forget the past, to 
 breathe only the intoxication of the present. 
 
 Lucy for the moment absolutely trembled at the con- 
 sequence of her folly. The usual excuse of a headache, left 
 her untroubled in her own room during the remainder of 
 the day. When she joined the family in the evening she 
 fondly hoped it had been forgotten. She certainly tried to 
 forget her share in the transaction. 
 
 Dr. Spencer, whose illness had thrown him back into 
 himself, compelling him to abandon study and to depend 
 (282)
 
 THE VISION. 283 
 
 more upon the society of his family and friends for his 
 pleasures, was seated near the open window, his thin hand 
 resting lovingly on Sibyl's curls. She had drawn a foot- 
 stool close to his side, and was lightly resting her head on 
 his knee. Mrs. Spencer and Mr. Hamilton made up the 
 little party. 
 
 Lucy glided into the room. Her advent was unnoticed 
 by any of them except by the Doctor, who smiled on her 
 as kindly as usual. 
 
 The conversation had been kept up principally by the 
 two men, and had turned on the essential principle of the 
 soul, as stated by Swedenborg. 
 
 "There is no new creed, Mr. Hamilton," said the old 
 clergyman. " The questions as to the immortality of the 
 soul have differed but slightly since the days of Plato. 
 The appearance of new prophets, men who claim to be 
 gifted with supernatural powers, to read and foretell fate, to 
 gaze into the depths of the starry heavens, and draw lessons 
 from the ' planets in their turn,' is as old as when the 
 stern old prophet of Israel slew the priests of Baal on 
 Mount Carmel in the wilderness." 
 
 " But, Doctor Spencer, does not the unaffected purity of 
 Swedenborg, his gentleness of disposition, the shrinking and 
 retiring nature of his character, relieve him in your mind 
 from the accusation of imposture ?" 
 
 " I do not think any one who studies that singular man's 
 life can fail to be fascinated by the qualities you have men- 
 tioned. Mr. Hamilton, his was a nature which feeds on itself. 
 Left alone by the very depth and character of his studies, 
 poetic, enthusiastic, he dreamed dreams, and thought 
 them realities. His teachings were all for good. His
 
 284 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 prophecies have disturbed the imagination and unsettled 
 the belief of hundreds." 
 
 " Do you not believe, father, that there may be some 
 subtle instinct, some unknown sense, which may bring us 
 into close companionship with those we love, even if ab- 
 sent from us ? " 
 
 " Sibyl means," said her mother, "just what I have felt 
 since you have been sick. I would be down stairs, and the 
 time would come for your soup (I never can remember 
 that plaguey French word), and I would find that I was 
 thinking of you without knowing it ! " 
 
 " Love, my dear," said the old gentleman, with a soft 
 smile, as he gently pressed the still plump hand which 
 had sought his, " works miracles. No, Sibyl, I do not be- 
 lieve in what you ask." 
 
 " Are there not an hundred instances, Doctor Spencer, 
 on record," asked his friend, " in which strange warnings 
 and mysterious appearances have been seen and felt by 
 persons separated by thousands of miles from the subject 
 of these apparitions ? " 
 
 "What actual testimony is there," replied the other 
 warming with his subject " testimony which will stand the 
 the test of scientific criticism of the truth of these state- 
 ments. A man dies, in farther India if you will, a vio- 
 lent death, to make the case a strong one. The event be- 
 comes known to his family, and then steps forward some 
 would-be soothsayer, who, on the night or day in question, 
 has seen enacted, in his mind's eye, the scene in all its 
 horrors." 
 
 " Why, father, must the person speak falsely ? Why not 
 believe as well in the truth as in the falsity of human na-
 
 THE VISION. 285 
 
 ture ? How can any testimony be brought to show that a 
 man does not see a vision, or dream a dream ? " 
 
 " Dreams, my child, are but the overflow of a heated 
 imagination. In most instances of mental impressions, 
 which have been carefully studied, it has been found that 
 the victim suffered or died in the southern hemisphere, 
 so that the would-be prophet, forgetting the difference of 
 time, that what is night to us is day to them, locates the 
 event twelve hours before or after its actual occurrence." 
 
 " Unless we could realize ' Puck's ' boast and put a 
 girdle round the earth in forty minutes," said Mr. Hamil- 
 ton, anxious to give the conversation a different turn, see- 
 ing the effect on Sibyl in her nervous and excited state of 
 mind. 
 
 " Why should we not why should we not, I say ? " ex- 
 claimed the Doctor, oblivious to every thing but his in- 
 terest in the conversation. " Do we not draw from the 
 heavens the lightnings at our pleasure, and have we not 
 harnessed steam as with a bridle ? Who dare place a lim- 
 it to man's intelligence, when we know he is formed in the 
 image of his maker ! " 
 
 "Then, father, it may not be vain, perhaps, to imagine 
 that round us hover the spirits of those who cheered and 
 loved us here on earth, that they surround us in our wak- 
 ing moments, and guard and shield us in the dark watches 
 of the night. That they will be the first to welcome us to 
 the realms of bliss." There was a nervous excitement 
 in her manner, and a wildness in her eye which startled 
 even the unobservant old man. He laid his hand softly 
 on her head. 
 
 " Ah, Sibyl, my darling child, who dare speculate on
 
 286 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 what He has kept concealed ! Clouds and darkness are 
 round about him, righteousness and judgment are the 
 habitation of his throne. It is a fond, and I trust not a 
 foolish conceit, to hope that we may be allowed to wel- 
 come into the mystical body of his elect, those whom we 
 have loved and travelled with here on earth. But what 
 can poor human nature know of the mysteries of which we 
 have been speaking ! There has been but one foot which 
 has ever retrod the dark valley our Example and our 
 Guide. Let us try so to live here on earth, that when our 
 turn comes, as come it soon will, to every child of man, 
 we may fear no evil, for his rod and his staff they succor us." 
 
 "Come, Mrs. Quincey, do play something for us," said 
 Mr. Hamilton. " This conversation has become too mel- 
 ancholy. Let me hand you to the piano." 
 
 " Yes, Lucy, a nice quiet psalm would do good to our 
 spirits. But that won't put my old man to bed. Come, 
 Doctor, you are up too late, we will leave the young peo- 
 ple to themselves." 
 
 Mrs. Spencer carried off the Doctor. Sibyl kissed her 
 father who lingered lovingly by her for a few minutes. 
 There was one thing, however, in which Mrs. Spencer 
 brooked no interference, and that was the loving care she 
 directed to her husband. Sibyl sat down by the window in 
 the chair her father had occupied, and resting her cheek on 
 her hand, looked dreamily into the starry heavens. The 
 soft July moon, almost at its full, cast its light on the old 
 trees, the little church, and brought into relief the quaint 
 slabs in the old graveyard. The village was sunk into 
 the deepest repose, there was nothing to break the still- 
 ness of the hour, save at long intervals the faint cry of the
 
 THE VISION. 287 
 
 whip-poor-will, far off in the meadow by the brook. Sibyl 
 heard nothing, saw nothing. " Her eyes were with her 
 heart, and that was far away." Lucy had changed the 
 rather brilliant piece she had been playing for one better 
 suited to the scene and hour. It was a mild, plaintive air, 
 almost eastern in its character. She possessed the rare 
 gift of being able to play and talk at the same time. She 
 was a wonderful musician, although it was art, rather than 
 nature, that made her so. Mr. Hamilton had taken a chair 
 close by the piano, and was looking at Sibyl's clear cut 
 profile as it was brought out in the moonlight. He was 
 not aware of his abstraction until he was startled by the 
 young Englishwoman's saying in a low tone, which almost 
 mingled with the notes she was playing, 
 
 " I have so wished so speak to you this evening, Mr. 
 Hamilton. What must y6u think of me, after what you 
 saw to-day ? " 
 
 "That you are somewhat reckless in the exercise of 
 a power which most men, and especially elderly men, find 
 irresistible, Mrs. Quincey." 
 
 The melody floated softly on the air, perhaps a thrill of 
 triumph escaped the finger-tips of the fair performer. 
 
 " You do not think, Mr. Hamilton, I was obliged to 
 accept a man in his position in life, simply because he 
 asked me, do you ? " 
 
 "Certainly not, my dear madam. I am a strong re- 
 publican and an equally strong American, but in my wild- 
 est dreams I never thought a middle-agec 1 Yankee farmer 
 a fit match for an English beauty." 
 
 " Then why do you blame me ? " she asked, after a 
 momentary pause.
 
 288 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " Blame you ? " he said, " surely I did not commence 
 this conversation. Qui s'excuse s'accuse. Even my lim- 
 ited knowledge of the world has taught me that." 
 
 "You have no thought, nor look, nor dream uncon- 
 nected with that beautiful statue, sitting by the window 
 there. Hush ! do not answer," she continued, hastily, for 
 even in the moonlight she could see the rising color. " I 
 had a letter this morning, and such a letter. I want help, 
 advice, and above all, a friend. Won't you be my friend, 
 Mr. Hamilton ? " The accent was perfectly irresistible. 
 Confound the woman, what was there about her which 
 fascinated you so ? He had read her perfectly. Her su- 
 perficial, changeable nature. The utter impossibility of 
 any deep or lasting feeling, and yet it only required an in- 
 flection of the voice, an appeal to his superiority, and it 
 was a favor to be allowed to serve her whether it was 
 the holding of a fan or the sacrifice of half one's fortune. 
 
 Lucy's quick wit took it all in, and she continued with- 
 out waiting for an answer. 
 
 " I have told Sibyl my sad story, so of course you 
 know it well. This morning brought me a letter from 
 Charles, Mr. Harcourt, I mean. He is about to return to 
 
 England. His uncle is dead. He is now Earl of . 
 
 He wishes me to join him at Montreal and return as his 
 wife! Can I?" 
 
 " Can you go ? What a question ! You do not sup- 
 pose, my dear Mrs. Quincey, we are sunk so low as to 
 make war on women ? Let me assure you at once, you are 
 as free as air ? " 
 
 " I did not mean that there were fetters on my wrists," 
 she answered, with a low musical laugh, "however the
 
 THE VISION. 289 
 
 heart may be bound. In my sorrow, in my widowhood, 
 you all were my friends. I was in sorrow and they minis- 
 tered unto me, to use the quaint language which is so 
 much in vogue here. Seriously can you not imagine the 
 heart rests lovingly in that spot in which alone rest has 
 been found. And how will Charles feel for me after the 
 vagabond life I have led ? I have tortured myself with 
 this question night and day." 
 
 " Permit me, my dear Mrs. Quincey. You began this 
 conversation. Mr. Harcourt was how shall I express it 
 your earliest love. Was he not ? " 
 
 No answer could have been given, with a more infan- 
 tile air, with more charming simplicity, than the one which 
 dropped, as it were, from Lucy's lips. 
 
 " Oh, dear, yes ; we always looked on each other just as 
 man and wife, until the death of his elder brother. Then, 
 you know, all was changed. They wanted him to marry 
 among his degree. You understand ? " 
 
 " 'Pon my word I do not," replied the other. " If I 
 catch the drift of your remarks you were affianced with the 
 consent of his family. Certainly they were not base 
 enough to break that engagement, simply because he be- 
 came the presumptive heir to an earldom." 
 
 " That is exactly just what I mean," said she, changing 
 the light tone as she did the music she was playing to one 
 of deep, serious earnest. " When Charles was nothing 
 but a younger son's younger son, poor Lucy Bradford was 
 a match good enough for him. But when he became a 
 peer ' in futuro,' she was no longer more than the dust un- 
 der their feet." 
 
 There was a deep, passionate utterance in the last sen-
 
 2QO SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 tence, which he had never heard. Before Mr. Hamilton 
 could speak she went on. 
 
 " When we met last winter the old power came over 
 me again of his presence I mean. Under a soft and 
 gentle manner Charles has an iron will. With him I am 
 powerless away from him, I sometimes tremble at the 
 future. For five months not one line has Charles sent me, 
 not one question asked, nor one effort made to find out 
 the fate of the woman who would have given up fame and 
 name for him. For the woman who knelt at the feet of 
 that General of yours to beg his life." 
 
 Mr. Hamilton felt very uncomfortably as this woman 
 went on. What had he to do with her love passages ! Yet 
 she was rarely beautiful. The full yet graceful figure ; 
 the large, soft dark eyes ; the mouth perhaps a trifle too 
 rich in its coloring. He glanced towards the window. 
 Sibyl sat motionless as a statue, looking ghastly white as 
 the moonlight fell upon her. Lucy saw the direction of 
 his eyes. The words she uttered hardly reached his ears, 
 so softly were they spoken. The melody seemed to float 
 around him. 
 
 "With Charles's letter there is a pass from General 
 Brown. The moment is come, Mr. Hamilton, when my 
 fate is to be sealed. Since I have been here I have felt 
 like a different woman. I could make a man very happy, 
 if I respected as well as loved him." 
 
 What did she mean, this siren, with her low replies, 
 with her music sweeter than the harp of Orpheus. She 
 could not mean she loved him. He a man twenty-five 
 years her senior. Yet why should he not possess all this 
 beauty, all these accomplishments ! Why should he not fill
 
 THE VISION. 291 
 
 his heart and his home ! Was it because one young girl 
 had felt for him no passion ! Was it because the love of 
 years had struck no responsive chord in her breast, that 
 another might not ? 
 
 It was almost timidly he stole a look at Lucy. There 
 was a blush just creeping over the velvet cheek, the long 
 lashes veiled the glance in which, by heavens ! he read the 
 mocking. He too, had been made a fool of. How well 
 he remembered the feeling of bitter contempt with which 
 he had met poor old Knapp as he came into the garden 
 that very morning ! 
 
 " Forgive me, Mrs. Quincey, if for one moment " 
 
 " Not another word, Mr. Hamilton. ' Qui s'excuse 
 s'accuse,' I may trust to your friendship," she laid, partic- 
 ular emphasis on the last word, " to provide me an escort 
 of some kind to the frontier." She had risen from the 
 piano as she spoke, and her air and manner had in it all 
 the haughtiness of a woman of the world. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton choked down the bitter word which rose 
 to his lips, and as with a courteous bow he was about 
 answering her, he was startled by hearing Lucy utter an 
 exclamation of horror and seeing her run to Sibyl's side. 
 The girl had half raised herself in her chair, one hand was 
 pressed against her forehead, while the other was appar- 
 ently waving away an object which seemed to rise before 
 her in the moonlight. Her eyes were dilated, her whole 
 form was fixed and rigid except that the chattering of her 
 teeth could be distinctly heard. Lucy had passed her 
 arm round Sibyl's slight form and drew her to her breast, 
 as tenderly as a mother would a frightened child. 
 
 " Sibyl, my darling, my sister, what is it ? In mercy 
 tell us ! "
 
 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton could only stand still and look on in 
 speechless horror. The scene had lasted hardly twenty 
 seconds, when with a loud cry Sibyl buried her face in her 
 hands with a bitter, moaning sound. " I saw him fall ! 
 He is dead ! he is dead ! " Like some wounded bird, the 
 girl sank slowly down, her moans grew softer and softer 
 the poor child had fainted.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII. 
 
 LUNDY'S LANE. 
 
 " And leaving in battle no blot on his name, 
 Look proudly to Heaven from the death-bed of fame." 
 
 CAMPBELL. 
 
 ENERAL BROWN determined to make the 
 war an offensive one, and on the third day of 
 July, suddenly threw a division of his army 
 across the Niagara river to the Canadian shore. 
 Fort Erie, one of the strongest British posts, fell almost 
 without a shot. Although of the greatest advantage to 
 the Americans, it was but the opening of the campaign. 
 
 General Riall, the English commander, reinforced by 
 some of the best veteran troops drawn from Wellington's 
 peninsular army, pressed forward, to either recapture the 
 position, or drive the American army out of the province. 
 After some days spent in manoeuvring, they met and fought 
 the battle of Chippewa ; for the numbers engaged, the 
 most sanguinary on record each side claimed the victory 
 each with equal truth. 
 
 The forces engaged were few in numbers, but very 
 equally matched, both in character and morale. On either 
 side they consisted of about 3.500 regulars, rather more 
 than that number of militia, and six or seven hundred In- 
 
 (293)
 
 294 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 dians, and the reinforcements each received made them 
 numerically equal. Several slight engagements had taken 
 place, with about equal advantage, and on the afternoon 
 of the 25th of July General Brown encamped his force al- 
 most within the circle of mist which arose from the Niagara 
 Falls. 
 
 The encampment had hardly been formed, when a 
 courier brought to the General the intelligence that the 
 enemy, in some strength, had crossed Niagara river to 
 the American side, and were threatening his depot of 
 supplies at the little village of Schlosser. 
 
 Instantly on receiving this advice, General Brown or- 
 dered the First Brigade, under General Scott, to advance 
 down the river and threaten the enemy's communications 
 and his posts on that line. This movement was com- 
 menced about five o'clock in the afternoon. The brigade 
 was set in motion and had advanced but a short distance, 
 when sharp firing commenced, which soon became heavy, 
 and general, showing the British to be in strong force. 
 
 " Ride forward, Colonel Mason," said General Brown, 
 " and see what that means. Tell Scott, if the enemy are 
 in force, to hold his men well together, but to press them 
 strongly. I will advance as soon as practicable with the 
 main body. Thee must not wait to do any fighting on 
 thy own account; but bring me the best intelligence." 
 
 The evening had closed in darkly ; the sky was covered 
 with fleecy clouds, through which the stars as yet shone 
 dimly. Edward rode as fast as the nature of the ground 
 and the darkness permitted. In a few minutes he came 
 upon two or three wounded men, making their way slowly 
 to the rear. Led by the sound of rapid firing, he soon
 
 LUNDY S LANE. 295 
 
 came on the rear of the brigade, drawn up in open order, 
 and briskly engaged with a considerable force, who occu- 
 pied the side of a gentle hill, the summit of which was 
 crowned by a battery. 
 
 The darkness of evening was lit up at short intervals 
 by the flash of the artillery, and Edward could hear the 
 sing of the shot, followed by the cracking of branches, as 
 they tore their way through the little wood, on the edge of 
 which the First Brigade was posted. 
 
 After giving his orders and obtaining all the informa- 
 tion in his power, Edward turned to rejoin the General. 
 The moon, almost at the full, had risen over the highlands 
 on the east side of the river, and objects were brought 
 more and more clearly into relief as he rode forward. 
 
 The noise his horse made in blundering through one of 
 the snake fences, as common in Canada as in New York, 
 caused a small party of horsemen to pause suddenly, and, 
 while still endeavoring to recover his seat in the saddle, 
 Edward stopped by the side of the General. 
 
 The General broke into a hearty laugh at the unwarlike 
 advance of his favorite aid, and turning a little off the road 
 at the gap made by Mason, heard him in silence until his 
 report was finished. He then gave some quick orders to 
 the two or three young officers who attended on him, which 
 they rode rapidly away to fulfil. 
 
 Left alone with Edward, the General sat motionless on 
 his horse, the reins falling carelessly on the animal's neck. 
 The Second Brigade filed past on the road to take the po- 
 sition assigned to them. 
 
 Suddenly the General said, without turning his head, 
 his eyes still fixed on the Eastern sky :
 
 296 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 " They will say Riall caught us napping, Mason. I 
 think he has had heavy reinforcements. Look ! look, 
 Edward, look, my boy ! how lovely, how exquisite ! " 
 
 Following the direction of the General's extended hand, 
 Edward saw, spanning the entire falls, from the American 
 to the Canadian shore, the beautiful outline of the lunar 
 rainbow each prismatic color faintly but exquisitely 
 painted in the clouds of mist. 
 
 The heavy firing seemed for the moment to die away, 
 and they could distinguish the roar of the mighty river, as 
 with " icy current and compulsive course " it thundered 
 down the abyss. As they looked the colors grew fainter 
 and fainter, and as they died away the general said : 
 
 " God's harbinger of peace to man. Who knows, Ed- 
 ward, it may be but the gilded halo round the soldier's 
 grave ? " 
 
 He had advanced while speaking and joined the officer 
 commanding the column of militia and volunteers, which 
 had at length moved forward. Impressing his orders on 
 this gentleman by voice and gesture, General Brown turned 
 his horse and dashed after the Second Brigade at a speed 
 which soon distanced the inferior animal on which Edward 
 was mounted. 
 
 Of the remainder of that battle Edward remembered 
 but little. It seemed to him as if it were but one continu- 
 ous flash, rattle, and roar of artillery and small arms. He 
 4W the British general brought in wounded and a prisoner, 
 xle heard the few courteous words which passed between 
 the two leaders, and saw him taken to the rear under a 
 guard ; then a message was given him to deliver, and it 
 was an hour before he returned. He found standing by
 
 LUNDYS LANE. 297 
 
 General Brown's side, when he came back, a stern, sol- 
 dierly man, whom he recognized as the colonel of the 2ist 
 Regulars, and heard General Brown say: 
 
 " Miller, can you take that battery ? " 
 
 "I'll try," was the calm, quiet answer. 
 
 " Do so, then ; I must have it at any price. Mason, 
 head that column with Colonel Miller. Forward, sir," and 
 the General's voice shook a little as he said the last word, 
 " farewell." 
 
 . The moon at this instant broke out through the floating 
 clouds, and tipped each bayonet and accoutrement of the 
 soldier with silver, as the 2ist Regulars, now reduced to 
 barely three hundred, silently, elbow to elbow, as if on 
 parade, advanced up the sloping meadow, which was 
 crowned by that terrible battery. 
 
 They had advanced to within fifty yards, when Colonel 
 Miller's voice rang out clear and full : " Charge bayonets ! 
 Forward, double quick ! " The rest of the words were lost 
 in the roar of the cannon, as Edward, throwing his arms 
 wildly over his head, horse and man went blindly down. 
 The men swept over him at the run. The moon shone out 
 clear and cold, as his face to heaven, a smile on his lips, 
 his body almost torn to pieces with grape-shot, with no 
 struggle, no motion, lay Edward Mason. The General's 
 words had been prophetic " Farewell ! " 
 
 With the remainder of this bloody fight this story has 
 nothing to do. Step by step the ground was won after the 
 capture of the battery, only to be again retaken and to be 
 again lost. General Brown was carried off, severely, and, 
 as was then thought, mortally wounded. 
 
 The American army fell back at last, leaving the bat-
 
 298 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 tery on the hill, keeping silent watch over the dying and 
 the dead. 
 
 It was towards morning, that a man could now be seen, 
 his clothes drenched with the night's dew, his face anxious 
 and disturbed, moving rapidly from body to body, only 
 stopping to bend over and examine carefully the face of 
 each. It was our friend Eph., who, in the position of sut- 
 ler which he had obtained, had been kept far in the rear of 
 the army. The story which had spread among the staff 
 of Edward's death had driven him almost frantic, and he 
 was now seeking, with the fidelity of his nature, to find the 
 playmate of his boyhood. 
 
 "Felt this morning," he muttered to himself, "when I 
 saw him get on that brute, he'd be in bad luck. Never 
 knew a wall-eyed horse that didn't bring bad luck. Broke 
 his leg, I reckon. P'rhaps its only a sprain. How in 
 thunder am I to get him back to camp ? Them fools are 
 only thinking of themselves ; and now the General's down, 
 there is no use in going to head-quarters. The new general 
 
 would see me d d first before he gave me a detail, and 
 
 then he wouldn't. Thar he is now, by " 
 
 As he uttered this last exclamation he rushed forward, 
 stumbling over the dead body of the brute he had been 
 anathematizing, which lay half-hidden in the long grass. 
 Yes, he had found Edward, and, with a half-hysterical 
 laugh, he knelt by his side. 
 
 " I am here, Ned ; ye didn't think Eph. forget you, did 
 ye ? Why don't you answer ? Are ye faint ? " 
 
 He tried to tear open the closely-buttoned uniform ; his 
 fingers stuck together with clotted blood as he held them 
 up to the moonlight.
 
 LUNDYS LANE. 299 
 
 " My God ! he must be wounded ! He can't be dead ! 
 Oh, no, no ! Ned dear Ned you ain't dead ? " 
 
 With hands that trembled so as to delay him by their 
 very eagerness, he drew a small bottle from his pocket and 
 endeavored to pour some of its contents down his friend's 
 throat. Even in this action, true to his nature, Eph. could 
 not resist the half-serious, half-comic soliloquy which broke 
 from his lips: 
 
 " 'Tis a little old Jamaica that I got last time I was to 
 hum. There an't no better to be had in the State. Takes 
 the major to know what rum is. My God ! he don't hear 
 me ! He is dead ! dead ! dead ! " and covering his face 
 with his hands, he bent his body almost to the ground and 
 rocked himself to and fro in agony. 
 
 Eph. took no note of time. He knew not how long he 
 cowered thus over the body of the being he loved best in 
 the world. He could hardly be said to think ; at intervals 
 he would moan out the words, " Dead ! dead ! and I not 
 by him when he fit the fight ! " 
 
 There were several groups moving on the hillside, some 
 distance from where Edward lay. The tall grass shielded 
 Eph. in his crouching posture from observation, and it was 
 not until he actually leaned over him that a British soldier 
 saw that one of the two was still living. The fellow had 
 been one of the detail sent out to succor the wounded, but 
 bent on plunder, had separated himself from his compan- 
 ions, and was now furtively robbing indiscriminately friend 
 and foe. 
 
 After casting a hurried look around him, the soldier 
 bent over Edward and felt for the valuables which might 
 be on his person. The slight noise he made caused Eph.
 
 3OO SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 to look up ; his quick mind took in the situation at a 
 glance. With a bound he sprang to his feet and con- 
 fronted the startled ruffian. 
 
 True to his training and the bull-dog courage of his 
 race, the man, with an oath, brought the musket he carried 
 to the charge, and the point of the bayonet glistened within 
 a foot of Eph.'s breast 
 
 The transitions of the passions in the human heart are 
 instantaneous. Before him stood one of those who had 
 killed the object of his adoration ; Eph.'s intense love be- 
 came at once blind rage. 
 
 " Hellhound ! " he cried, " you'd rob the man you've 
 murdered, would ye ? " 
 
 Had the soldier dared to fire, Eph.'s words would have 
 been his last ; but not a hundred yards off he saw, coming 
 through the faint moonlight, his officer and the party he 
 had deserted on his plundering trip. This hesitation gave 
 Eph. time to seize a musket, dropped by some wounded 
 man, and similarly armed, the two savage men confronted 
 each other ; between lay the dead body of Edward. With 
 a half-stifled yell and curse, the two threw themselves 
 forward, their weapons clashing and sparkling in the 
 struggle. 
 
 The ringing of the steel had aroused the party, now very 
 close, and with a loud cry of " Hold ! wretches, murderers, 
 hold ! " the officer in command rushed forward. It was 
 too late. Without an effort at defence, the two men, as if 
 by mutual consent, disengaged their arms, and the next 
 instant they were buried to the hilt in each other's body. 
 For an instant they stood thus, each supporting the other ; 
 then the knees of the English soldier gave way, every
 
 LUNDYS LANE. 30 1 
 
 muscle relaxing, and, without a sound, the body slowly 
 sank to the ground. 
 
 Eph. had still strength to tear himself from the weapon 
 and turn staggeringly towards the head of his friend. At 
 this moment the British officer was by his side, snatching 
 from the hand of the horrified sergeant who accompanied 
 him the lantern he carried, Harcourt, for it was he, caught 
 at Eph.'s arm to give him support. As he did so, the 
 light fell full on the upturned face at his feet. He recog- 
 nized him in an instant. Forgetting every thing, Harcourt 
 threw himself on his knees, and tremblingly laid his hand 
 on the cold forehead. 
 
 " Oh, God ! it can't be so. Mason, my friend, my bro- 
 ther, my saviour ! oh, no, it cannot be so ! " 
 
 Eph had slowly sunk to the ground, but had still force 
 sufficient to drag himself to Harcourt's side, 
 
 " He breathes, Cap. I say, Cap, he breathes don't 
 he?" 
 
 The gurgling blood burst from nose and mouth, as 
 with a convulsive effort to tear off the cravat which choked 
 his breathing, Ephraim Dodge lay dead. 
 
 The strong soldiers drew their breath like men in pain. 
 Harcourt had sprung to his feet ; and with clasped hands 
 stood looking down on the bloody scene. 
 
 The sergeant picked up the lantern his superior had 
 dropped, and turning over the body of the soldier held the 
 light to his' face. 
 
 "Phil Blake, as I thought," the man muttered. " He 
 has saved himself from the triangles." 
 
 " He died game, any how," said one of the others, who 
 had overheard the remark.
 
 3<D2 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 Harcourt turned, and, followed by the party, walked 
 silently and slowly towards the British lines. 
 
 The next day a flag of truce brought into the lines the 
 two bodies of Edward Mason and Ephraim Dodge. 
 
 Some kind hand had covered the torn breast of Ed- 
 ward with a rude chaplet of the sweetbriar rose. He sleeps 
 peacefully on the bloody Canadian soil.
 
 CONCLUSION. 
 
 " The love where death has set its seal, 
 Nor age can quell, nor rival steal, 
 Nor falsehood disavow." 
 
 BYRON. 
 
 LMOST the first non-official act of General 
 Brown, when he was sufficiently recovered to 
 put pen to paper, was the letter in which he 
 broke the sad news of Edward's death to Sibyl. 
 What passed in the interview between father and daughter 
 when the letter came, was never known. Sibyl would sit 
 for hours on a low seat by her father's chair, her head 
 resting on its arm, her hand closely locked in his, calm, 
 silent, motionless. 
 
 Poor Mrs. Spencer's grief was violent and loud spoken. 
 She found a friend, where she did not expect it, and that 
 was in Lucy. The latter had, on the news of the crushing 
 blow which had fallen on the family who had protected 
 her in her sorrow, postponed her departure. Many letters 
 had passed between Lucy and Harcourt. Noble, manly let- 
 ters, which Lucy proudly read, as coming from her lover. 
 He had retired from the army after the battle of Lundy's 
 Lane, and now only waited the declaration of peace, which 
 
 (33)
 
 304 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 all knew was close at hand, to come to D and claim 
 
 his early love. 
 
 The charge of the 2ist Reg. had been widely spread 
 abroad, and none did more honor to the desperate courage 
 of men and officers than the gallant enemy, whom for the 
 time being, had been forced from their vantage ground. 
 
 Edward had been seen and afterwards recognized by 
 several officers, whose acquaintance he had made while 
 prisoner at Quebec. 
 
 Their stories had been gathered, and transmitted by 
 Harcourt to the family at D . 
 
 Sibyl never spoke when his name was mentioned ; she 
 eagerly read and re-read these brief accounts, but her si- 
 lence was impenetrable. 
 
 " I do wish," said Mrs. Spencer to Mr. Hamilton, one 
 morning, " that our Sibyl would act as any other girl of 
 her age would do. There she sits, just like ' Niobe,' the 
 doctor was telling us about the other night. She wont 
 talk, she don't cry. I tell you it is clear against nature 
 it is not what the Holy Book says she ought to do." 
 
 " My dear Mrs. Spencer, how can you say so ? To 
 me, Sibyl never was so lovely as in her grief. She never 
 obtrudes her woe. She ministers, as she always did, to 
 the happiness of others. Self-devoted, self-forgetful, and 
 oh, so lovely ! " 
 
 " That's all very well for you, now. That is just the 
 way the Doctor always does. But don't the Bible say, 
 that Rachael wept for her children and would not be com- 
 forted because they were not ? Ah me, they were both 
 children of mine. I loved one almost as much as the 
 other, and if I did think sometimes, our Sibyl might have
 
 CONCLUSION. 305 
 
 made a better match, it was not that I did not love Ed- 
 ward as a son." 
 
 Mr. Hamilton's face grew very white and he bit his 
 lips, as he walked to the window to hide the emotion the 
 simple-hearted woman had called up. As he stood look- 
 ing into the deserted street, he was struck by the appear- 
 ance of a stranger, who, after a moment's hesitation, as- 
 cended the stoop, and knocked at the front door. 
 
 The negro boy, Sam, soon entered and announced, 
 " A strange gentleman to see Mr. Hamilton." 
 
 " I trust, Sam, you showed the gentleman into the 
 parlor, though there is no fire there after all. Just ask 
 him to step in here, Sam. I will slip out, and you can 
 bring in some cake and wine. I wouldn't have a stranger 
 and a friend of Mr. Hamilton think we had forgotten our 
 manners, even if we have been smitten by the hand of 
 the Lord." 
 
 Mr. Hamilton knew how hopeless was any attempt at 
 interference in Mrs. Spencer's hospitable intentions. She 
 had scarcely left the room, when Sam introduced the 
 stranger, a tall, handsome young man, with the bearing 
 and carriage of a gentleman. 
 
 " Mr. Hamilton," he said, slightly bowing, " our cor- 
 respondence has made you acquainted with the name of 
 Harcourt." 
 
 " Certainly, most certainly ; but is not your visit dan- 
 gerous to you," said the other ; " you, an Englishman, and 
 we at war ? " 
 
 " Surely," said the other, " the news of peace has 
 reached even this secluded village. Such is the fact, how- 
 ever. I landed in New York yesterday, in the first vessel 
 
 20
 
 306 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 from Halifax, and left it ablaze with bonfires at the glad 
 news." 
 
 " You bring glad tidings to a sad family, sir," said Mr. 
 Hamilton, extending his hand. " But you are welcome, as 
 the friend of one none knew but to love and praise." 
 
 " I owed him more, sir, than a man cares to owe to 
 another life, honor, and liberty. I know not what strange 
 presentiment induced me on that fatal night to take with 
 me a detail, to search the battle-field. I can only say it 
 was a foreboding of evil, the actuality of which has clouded 
 my life for ever." 
 
 " You are young in years, my friend, to say such sad 
 words. To you life is yet full of ventures, of happiness. 
 Political life, military renown, woman's love all are yours, 
 or may be yours. If I mistake not, I address myself to 
 the Earl of " 
 
 Harcourt bowed. 
 
 "If I may venture to ask the favor, however, I prefer to 
 be known, the short time I am in this village, as plain 
 Charles Harcourt. Mr. Hamilton " a slight color crossed 
 his cheek as he spoke- "there is in the house a lady may 
 I ask, will your permit am I at liberty " 
 
 " Sir, you confer a favor in ministering to the pleasure 
 of any guest in this house. I will see that Mrs. Quincey is 
 informed of your arrival. There is one thing, however, 
 which you will forgive me for suggesting: namely, while 
 you are in this village, you remain a close prisoner in this 
 house." 
 
 Harcourt was about speaking, but the other went on 
 without noticing him. 
 
 " I am right, I must insist on this. To this family you
 
 CONCLUSION. 307 
 
 have endeared yourself by acts of kindness never to be for- 
 gotten. To the outside world you will for long years to 
 come be an Englishman and an enemy." 
 
 " But, surely, Mr. Hamilton, a war which was forced 
 on us. Reprisals for acts of which you were the first to 
 set an example." 
 
 " All of which you may calmly say to me, and I will 
 admit its force. But, Mr. Harcourt, England is victor. 
 There is not a hearth-stone which is not desolate there is 
 not a church-yard which is not green with our best and 
 dearest. You would only subject yourself to insult, and 
 your friends, and you have friends, to pain and annoyance. 
 You will confer this favor ? " 
 
 While this conversation was going on, Mrs. Spencer 
 had entered Lucy's room, whom she found alone. 
 
 " My dear," said the old lady, seating herself rather 
 out of breath, and bringing out her words spasmodically 
 " My dear, there is now down stairs a very handsome 
 young man. I guess you have something to do with his 
 visit. Ah me, I do not begrudge you the happiness, but 
 why was not Sibyl happy, too ? " 
 
 " Oh, Mrs. Spencer ! oh, my dear, dear Mrs. Spencer ! 
 Can it be Charles ? " 
 
 " I do not know," said the old lady. " I know it is 
 not one of the village folk, nor is he an American. Just 
 you run down. If you do not know him you have only to 
 curtsey and come away. You are at home here." 
 
 " But I am such a fright. Look how pale I am, and 
 with this dress on. He always hated a black dress." 
 
 " All the better. Don't you fret about your looks. 
 Men never know what a woman has on, if she don't keep
 
 308 SIBYL SPENCER. 
 
 them waiting. I do not believe the Doctor, now, could tell 
 you if I had more than one dress in the world. There," 
 Mrs. Spencer had been fussing with Lucy's costume as she 
 spoke, and now gently pushed her to the door, " I do hope 
 you will be happy, my poor child I do ; I have begun to 
 love you like my own daughter." 
 
 As Mr. Hamilton opened the door to call Mrs. Quin- 
 cey, he found her standing almost on its threshold. A 
 bright light broke over Harcourt's face as, holding out 
 both hands, he could only exclaim : 
 
 "Lucy!" 
 
 Did she hesitate ? There was but a moment's pause. 
 Then, with a glad cry of " Charles," she sprang forward. 
 
 Mr. Hamilton quietly drew the door shut behind him, 
 and left the lovers to themselves. 
 
 Some hours afterwards, the door was gently opened, 
 and Sibyl entered. 
 
 " I need no introduction," she said, " to his friend 
 you saw him last. It was your hand which placed flowers 
 on his breast. If for nothing else, God bless you for that 
 kind deed ! " 
 
 Harcourt's manly nature gave way, and the tears ran 
 down his cheeks, as he took the hand of the broken-hearted 
 girl in his own. 
 
 " My own intense happiness has made me selfish. 
 Sibyl sister let me be unto you all the word implies. 
 Come with us come with Lucy and me to England. Let 
 a change of scene make you forget a heart like yours 
 never forgets but " 
 
 " Hush ! oh, hush ! I have duties here, which cannot 
 be left my father, my mother." She placed her hand on
 
 CONCLUSION. 39 
 
 her heart as she spoke. " It will be but for a few short 
 months, perhaps weeks." 
 
 She laid her hand gently on his arm : 
 
 " I hear a voice you cannot hear, 
 
 Which says I must not stay 
 I see a hand you cannot see, 
 
 Which beckons me away." 
 
 THE END.
 
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 PART I 
 
 THE WORLD'S PROGRESS 
 
 A Dictionary of Dates, being a Chronological and Alphabetical Record 
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 CONTENTS: 
 
 THE WORLD'S PROGRESS, 1867 1877. 
 THE SAME 18511867. 
 
 THE SAME FROM THE BEGINNING OF HIS- 
 TORY TO 1851. 
 
 UNITED STATES TREASURY STATISTICS. 
 LITERARY CHRONOLOGY, ARRANGED IN TA- 
 BLES: HEBREW, GREEK, LATIN AND 
 ITALIAN, BRITISH, GERMAN, FRENCH, 
 SPANISH AND PORTUGUESE, DUTCH, 
 
 ARABIAN, PERSIAN AND TURKISH, 
 
 AMERICAN. 
 HEATHEN DEITIES AND HEROES AND HER 
 
 OINES OF ANTIQUITY. 
 TABULAR VIEWS OF UNIVERSAL HISTORY. 
 BIOGRAPHICAL INDEX, GENERAL. 
 
 THE SAME OF ARTISTS. 
 
 SCHOOLS OF PAINTING IN CHRONOLOGICAL 
 
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 PART I I 
 
 THE CYCLOPEDIA OF BIOGRAPHY 
 
 A RECORD OF THE LIVES OF EMINENT MEN 
 By PARKE GODWIN. 
 
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