John Ramsay, for the present, was to return to the Fair Forest camp, to inform Williams of the state of affairs;— and he was hereafter to act as occasion might suggest. Christopher Shaw and Alary were to attend upon Butler, and communicate whatever might transpire of interest to David Ramsay, who promised to find means of intercourse with Williams or Sampler, as circumstances should allow.

These matters being arranged, Mary and Christopher Shaw took their leaves of Ramsay's family, and went about the ostensible object of their expedition.

Horse Shoe's plan of travel during the first, and most perilous stages of his journey towards Virginia, was to avail himself of the darkness of the night;—and he accordingly resolved to set out as soon as this day should draw to a close. His immediate cares were, therefore, directed to making all the necessary preparations for his departure. Captain Peter was carefully tended, and supplied with a double allowance of provender; provisions were stowed away, both for himself and his trusty beast: his pistols wefe put in order:—his rifle cleaned out, and a supply of ammunition provided;—and, finally) the letters were sewed up in a leather pouch, and buckled around his body by a strap, inside of his clothes. It was no inconsiderable item in the sergeant's preparation for his expedition, to sit down and eat a meal, which, from the quantity bestowed, and the vigour with which the assault upon it was made, might have betokened a full week's starvation.

The day waned and the night came a welcome visiter to the sergeant; and, at that hour, which old chroniclers designate as 'inter canem et lupum,' captain Peter was brought to the door, ready dight for travel. Ramsay's family stood around,—and whilst Andy, with boyish affection, held Horse Shoe's rifle in his hand, the sergeant feelingly spoke the words of parting to his friends;—then, with a jaunty air of careless mirth, springing into his saddle, and receiving his trusly weapon from the young comrade of his late gallant adventure, he rode forth with as stout a heart as ever went with knight of chivalry to the field of romantic -enown.

CHAPTER VIII.

•

A GLANCE AT THE DOVE COTE.—THE COMPANIONSHIP OF BROTHER AND SISTER.

Our story once more brings us back to the Dove Cote. During the first week that followed her interview with Arthur Butler under the Fawn's Tower, Mildred was calm and thoughtful, and even melancholy: her usual customs of exercise were foregone, and her time was passed chiefly in her chamber. By degrees, however, her firm and resolute temper predominated over the sadness" of her fortunes, and she began to resume that cheerfulness which circumstances can never long subdue in ,a strong and disciplined mind. She had grown, more than ever watchful of the public events, and sought, with an intense avidity, to obtain information in regard to the state of things in the south. She now felt herself closely allied to the cause in which Arthur Butler had embarked, and, therefore, caught up the floating rumours of the day, in what regarded the progress of the American arms in the southern expedition, with the interest of one who had a large stake depending on the issue.

She had received several letters from Butler, which detailed the progress of his journey from the Dove Cote to Gates' camp, and from thence to Horse Shoe's cottage. They were all written in the confident and even jocular tone of a light-hearted soldier, who sought to amuse his mistress; and they narrated such matters of personal history as were of a character to still her fears for his safety. Their effect upon Mildred was to warm up her enthusiasm, as well as to brighten her anticipations of the future,—and thus to increase the returning elasticity of her spirits. Up to this period, therefore, she grew every day more buoyant and playful in her temper, and brought herself to entertain a more sanguine reckoning of the eventual determination of affairs. She was now frequently on horseback, attended by her brother, with whom she scarcely ever failed to make a visit to the good mistress Dimock, where she either found a letter from Butler, or heard some of the thousand tidings which

VOL. II. 6

few moments she returned bringing with her the family Bible.

'If you would like to read, sir,'—she said.—'Here is a book that a body may look at a long time without getting tired of it. We have only got this and the Pilgrim's Progress, and the hymn book in the. house; but my father says this is worth all the others that ever were printed, put together,—and especially, sir, when one's in distress, and away from their friends.'— ,

An expression of pleasure played across Butler's features as he took the heavy volume from the girl.—

'A thousand thanks to you, my pretty maiden,'—he replied,—'I doubt not I shall grow both wiser and better under your tutoring. This kindness almost reconciles me to my fate.'

'John is doing all he can for you—and he is a good helper to Mr. Robinson,'—said Mary in the same cautious whisper that she had first spoken in, as she retreated from the room. Butler opened the book, and found a sheet of paper folded away amongst the leaves; then closing it, he threw it upon his bed.

In due course of time, Mary Musgrove returned with a few dishes of food which she set out upon the table, and, in one of the successive visits which were employed in furnishing the repast, she took from beneath her apron a small ink-horn and pen, which she placed, unobserved by the sentinel, in Butler's hand. Having done this, she retired leaving the prisoner to despatch his meal alone.

After dinner, Butler threw himself upon his bed, where he lay with the Bible opened out before him, with his back turned towards the door; and, whilst Mary Musgrove was engaged in removing the furniture of the table, he found means to write a few lines to Philip Lindsay.— He took the same opportunity to pen a short letter to Mildred;—and then to set down some directions for Horse Shoe Robinson, the purport of which was that the sergeant should take the two letters and depart, with all despatch, for the Dove Cote, and to put both into the hands of Mildred, with a request that she would procure him the necessary reply from her father. Horse Shoe was also directed to explain to Mildred such particulars of Butler's history as were necessary to be made known for the accomplishment of the object of the mission.

When these papers were finished they were folded up into a small compass, and in the course of the evening put into Mary's hands, with a request that she would herself read the instructions intended for the sergeant, and apprize him of their contents when she delivered the papers to him.

So far all had succeeded well, and Butler found additional reason to dispel the gloom that hung upon his spirits, in the prospect that was now opened to him of enlisting strong and authoritative friends in the scheme of his liberation.

CHAPTER VII.

MARY MUSGROVE-s PERPLEXITIES.

As a mariner who watches the heavens from-the deck, and notes the first uprising of the small cloud, 'no bigger than a man's hand,' |hat to his practised eye shows the sign of tempest; and anon, as the speck quickly changes into a lurid mass, whence volume after volume of dun vapour is driven, in curled billows forward,—covering the broad welkin with a gloomy pall,—he looks more frequently and more intently upward, anxious to lay his vessel safe, and assure himself of his proper course to steer: so,—not with the same doubt of safety, but with the same restless inspection of the heavens,—did Mary watch the slow approach of night. First, she looked wistfully at the declining sun, and observed with pleasure the night-hawk begin to soar: then, through the long twi^ light, she noted the thickening darkness, and saw the bat take wing, and heard the frog croaking from his pool. And as the stars, one by one, broke forth upon the night, it gladdened her to think the hour of her mission was approaching,—for she was troubled in her spirit and anxious to acquit herself of her charitable office;—and perhaps, too, it may be told of her, without prejudice to her modest, maidenly emotions, a spur was given to her wishes by the hope of meeting John Ramsay.

For an hour after supper, she paced the porch, and still looked out upon the stars, to mark the slow waxing of the night; and, now, and then, she walked forth as far as the mill, and lingered by the bank of the river,—and again returned to ask the sentinel the hour.

'You seem disturbed, Mary,'—said Macdonald playfully.—'Now, I'll venture to say I can guess your thoughts: this star gazing is a great tell-tale. You were just now thinking that, as the tug of the war is over, some lad who has borne a musket lately, will be very naturally tripping this way to-night, instead of going home to see his mother. Come,—is'n't that a good guess?'

'Do you know him, sir?'—asked Mary with composure. 'Ay, to be sure I do:—a good, brave fellow, who eats well, drinks well and fights well'—

'All men do that now,'—replied the maiden,—'but I am sure you are wrong, sir, if you think any such considers it worth his while to come here.'

'He must come quickly, or we cannot let him in without a countersign,'—said the officer:—'sergeant, order the tattoo to beat, it is nine o'clock. Mary, stay, I must crossquestion you a little about this same gallant.'

'Indeed, sir, I did but jest, and so, 1 thought, you did.— My father says it is not proper I should loiter to talk with the men; good night, sir,—it is our time for prayers.'—And with these words the young girl withdrew into the house.

In some half hour afterwards, Mary escaped by another door, and, taking a circuitous path through the garden, she passed behind the sentinel and sped towards the mill, intent upon keeping her appointment with the friends of Butler. As soon as she reached the river bank, she quickened her pace and huried, with a nimble step, towards the distant thicket.

'What ho! who goes there?'—shouted the voice of a man from the neighbourhood of the mill—'who flies so fast?'—

'Faith, Tom, it must be a ghost'—said a second voice, loud enough to be heard by the damsel, who now in