stairs.—'Don't be alarmed for either Alfred or me.—We are ready to confess what we did and why we did it—and colone Tarleton, if he is a true man, will not dare to say we did wrong.'—

'I charge you, colonel Tarleton,'—said-Mildred with a firm but excited voice,—'as the soldier of a christian nation, to save the people of this house from an inhuman and most wicked outrage. 1 implore you as an officer who would be esteemed valiant—and as a gentleman who would fly from dishonour,—to rescue your name from the disgrace of this barbarous violence.—For the sake of mercy—spare us—spare us!'

As she uttered this last ejaculation her spirit yielded to the vehemence of her feelings, and she flung herself upon her knee at the feet of the commander.—'Oh, sir, do not let harm fall upon my brother.—I know not what he has done,—but he is thoughtless and rash.'—

'Mildred,'—said Henry, immediately rushing to his sister, and lifting her from the floor,—'why should you kneel before him, or any man here?—This is no place for you—get back to your room.'—Then turning to Tarleton, he continued.—'Alfred Markham and I tried to shoot down your men, because we saw them breaking the tomb. If it was to do over again our hands are ready.'

'They have insulted the memory of my father,'—exclaimed Alfred,—'trampled upon his grave, and broken the stone that covers him,—I aimed to kill the drunken coward who did it. That I say, sir, to your face.'

Tarleton, for a space, seemed to be bewildered by the scene. He looked around him, -as if hesitating what course to pursue,—and once or twice made an effort to obtain silence in the hall;—but the tumult of many voices in angry contention still continued. At last he presented his hand to Mildred, and with a courteous action conducted her to a chair,—then begged her to calm her fears, as he promised her that no evil should befal either of the young men whose indiscreet tempers had occasioned the present uproar.

'In God's name! have they fired the dwelling?'—he exclaimed, as at this moment a volume of smoke rolled into the hall.—'What ho, there!—O'Neal,—McPherson.— Look where this smoke comes from,—and instantly extinguish the fire!—Stir yourselves, gentlemen. By my hilt, if any follower of mine has been so wild as to put a torch to this house, I will hang him up to the ridge-pole of the roof! Look to it—every man! Quick, quick— there is danger that the flames may get ahead.'

In an instant nearly every soldier in the hall departed in obedience to this order.—

'I beg, madam,'—Tarleton continued,—'that you will dismiss your alarm, and rest upon my pledge that no inmate of this house shall be harmed. I conjecture that I have the honour to speak to Miss Lindsay—I have been informed that that lady has lately found shelter under this roof.'

'It is my name, sir,—and as the daughter of a friend to your quarrel, let me conjure you to see that this house is safe;—I cannot speak with you until I am assured of that.'—

At this juncture, Mrs. Markham was observed at the head of the first flight of stairs, pale with affright, wringing her hands and uttering loud ejaculations of terror and grief as she made her way down to the hall:—

'Oh, sir,'—she said, as she approached the commander,—'we are harmless women and have done nothing to call down this vengeance upon us. Take what you will— but spare my roof and save my family!—God will reward you even for that act of humanity to a desolate widow.'

Before Tarleton could reply to the matron, a party of officers came hastily into his presence,—at the head of whom was captain O'Neal, who reported that the fire was extinguished.

'One of the mess, to-day,' he said,—'heated with

drink and roused by the foolish temper of these hotheaded boys, threw a blazing billet into a closet.—Luckily, we reached the spot before any great harm was done. The chaps should be switched, and taught better manners.—It was a silly affair and might have made mischief.'

'See that the offender be arrested,'—replied Tarleton,— 'I will take measures to curb this licence. These meddling youngsters, too—however, 1 can't blame them,— they had provocation, I confess—and this war gives an edge to all the metal of the country.—Instead of pop-guns now every baby has his powder and ball—dismiss the boys.—To your post, captain, and order every man to join his company.—Now, madam,'—he added in a tone of conciliation to Mrs. Markham, as soon as the hall was cleared,—'I am sure you will notaccuse me of incivility. My people have withdrawn—the fire is extinguished— these inconsiderate lads at liberty:—have I answered your wish?'

'You have won the gratitude of a mother,'—replied the dame,—'and the respect of an enemy.—I am bound to say to you, in return, that I cheerfully surrender to you ./whatever you may choose to take from my estate for the supply of your soldiers.—Alfred, my son, give me your arm, and help me to my chamber—I am feeble and faint. ) must ask your permission to withdraw,'—she continued, as she courtesied to Tarleton, and ascended the stairs.

'And I, too, must take my leave,'—said Tarleton.—'But before I go I may claim the privilege of a word with Miss Lindsay. You spoke of your father, madam?—and, especially, as a friend of our arms. 1 have been told he lives in Virginia—Philip Lindsay—the proprietor of a seat called 'The Dove Cote'—a royalist too,—am I-right?'—

'So, my father is known, sir.'

'That name has stood you in stead to-day, madam.— And this is your brother? I should think he is hardly of your father's mind in regard to our quarrel.—This way, my thoughtless young gallant!—It was a wild, bold and very conceited thing of you to be challenging my unruly dragoons—and would have been no less so, if you had had twenty score of tall fellows at your back.—But it is past now, and you need not apologise for it,—it showed mettle at least, and we soldiers never quarrel with a man for that.—May [ inquire, Miss Lindsay, in what direction you travel?—for I learn you are but a sojourner here.— It may be in my power to insure you safe conduct.'

'I seek your general, lord Cornwallis, on matters of private concern,'—replied Mildred,— 'and if I might venture to ask it of colonel Tarleton, his service in affording me an unquestioned passage, would be a favour that 1 % should gratefully acknowledge.'

The obligation will be on my side, madam.—It will be a pleasure to me to believe that I can serve a lady—much more the daughter of an honourable subject of the king. Permit me, without further parley—for time presses at this moment—to say that I will leave an escort behind me under the command of a trusty officer, who will wait your pleasure to conduct you, by the safest and easiest journey, to head-quarters. Your commands, madam, shall in all respects regulate his motion.—My communications with his lordship shall announce your coming. Now, Miss Lindsay, with my best wishes for your safety and success, I take my leave;—and, as a. parting request, 1 venture to hope you will do me the justice to say, that Tarleton is not such a graceless sinner as his enemies have sometimes been pleased to represent him.'

These last words were accompanied by a laugh, and a somewhat bluff courtesy, as the speaker swayed his rigid and ungainly figure into a succession of awkward bows by which he retreated to the door.

'I shall be happy on all occasions,'—replied Mildred, whilst the soldier was thus strenuously playing off the graces of a gallant,—'to do justice to the kindness which I have experienced at colonel Tarleton's hands.'

'There, Mildred,'—said Henry, when Tarleton had disappeared—'you see things have gone very pat for us. That comes of letting these fellows see who they have to deal with. A little powder and ball is a good letter of recommendation to the best of their gang. If my carbine hadn't missed fire to-day, Tarleton would have been short by one bottle-holder, at least, when he set out to steal liquor from the country cupboards.'

'It has ended well, brother,'—replied Mildred,—'but it does not become you to boast of what you have done. It was a rash and dangerous deed, and had nearly brought ruin upon this friendly family.'

'Tut—sister!—you are only a woman. Yon wouldn't have found the colonel so civil if we hadn't taught him to look after his men.'

v CHAPTER XXIV.

MILDRED ARRIVES AT THE TERM OF HER JOURNEY.—THE READER IS FAVOURED WITH A GLIMPSE OF A DISTINGUISHED PERSONAGE.

Cornwallis, after the battle of Camden, turned his thoughts to the diligent prosecution of his conquests. The invasion of North Carolina and Virginia was a purpose to which he had looked, from the commencement of this campaign, and he now, accordingly, made every preparation for the speedy advance of his army. The sickness of a portion of his troops and the want of supplies rendered some delay inevitable, and this interval was employed in more fully organizing the civil government of the conquered province, and in strengthening his frontier defences, by detaching considerable parties of men towards the mountains. The largest of these detachments were sent to reinforce Ferguson, to whom had been confided the operations upon the north-western border.

The chronicles of the time inform us that the British general lay at Camden until the 8th of September, at which date he set forward towards North Carolina. His movement was slow and cautious, and, for some time, his head-quarters were established at the Waxhaws, a position directly upon the border of the province about to be invaded. At this post our story now fmds him,—the period being somewhere about the commencement of the last quarter of the month.

A melancholy train of circumstances had followed the fight at Camden, and had embittered the feelings of the contending parties against each other to an unusual degree of exasperation. The most prominent of these topics of anger, was the unjust and severe construction which the British authorities had given to the obligations which were supposed to affect such of the inhabitants of South Carolina, as had, after the capitulation of Charleston, surrendered themselves as prisoners on parole, or received protections from the new government. A proclamation, issued by Sir Henry Clinton in June, annulled the paroles, and ordered all who had obtained them to render military