"Be it so, my benefactor:" and, with the natural gaiety of youth, she hastened to prepare for her departure.

The pastor accompanied her until they arrived at the place where, as an infant, he had found her. It was summer, and the green grass had replaced the snow which at that time covered the ground. Catherine knelt.

"Give me your blessing here, father," said she in a voice of emotion. “It was here that, thirteen years ago, you first heard my feeble cries. God hears this day the prayers I offer for your happiness, and will listen to me as you then listened, and repay you for all that you have since done for me, and prolong your days to give happiness to all those that surround you."

The old man's agitation was extreme, as, laying his trembling hands on the beautiful girl's head, he exclaimed, “Go in peace, my daughter. God is our master, and we must submit to whatever he wills. We cannot foresee in what manner He thinks right to dispose of his creatures. Whatever may happen, be assured that my sister will continue my work of charity and love. Go; and if Heaven wills that we shall not meet again, remember the last words of your poor old pastor, who, knowing his intellect inadequate to the training of thine, was content to model thy heart after his own. Be always good and obedient-be submissive, Catherine; and in whatever position it may be your fortune to be placed, always remember that thou once wert but a poor deserted infant, who in a few hours must have perished, had not God sent one of his humble servants to your assistance. Rise, my daughter; go in peace; always act rightly, speak truth, and do your duty, happen what may."

Raising the young girl from her knees, he kissed her forehead, and they separated.

"Catherine! Catherine! why do you remain at the door instead of assisting me in laying by these clothes, or spinning the rest of the flax? Do you think that my brother has sent you to me to do nothing but fold your arms and amuse yourself? Do you hear me, Catherine?"

The person who spoke was the old pastor's aged sister, who resided a few miles from Marienburg, in Livonia. The usually joyous countenance of the young girl whom she addressed bespoke intense anxiety.

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Oh, Madame Alexina, do you not hear the roaring of the cannon?" asked she, still remaining at the door.

"It is perhaps thunder, or some public rejoicing, Catherine. What day of the month is this?"

"The 20th of August 1702, Madame Alexina."

No, it is not the king's birthday. Are you sure that it was cannon, Catherine?"

"Yesterday morning," said Catherine, half speaking to herself, and as if trying to recall something to memory, "the pastor Skovronski, after his usual visits to his friends, called me to his

side. He had an air of anxiety and trouble. 'My child,' said he, we are at length going to part. My sister is in need of you. You will not leave her until I go for you myself-myself, Catherine.' I was struck by his repeating myself; and not answering him, he continued, "God is our master.' When anything weighed on his mind, that was his expression. And then he made me depart so quickly too, without allowing me to speak to any one. And he appeared so agitated when he placed his hands on my head to bless me. Oh, I have seen him for the last time! Child that I am, to have left him. Again the cannon—again !”

Carried away by her feelings, she wept unrestrainedly.

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Mercy on me! weeping! You, too, who are ever laughing," cried the old lady with surprise. "Do you weep because my brother appeared a little agitated, and his hand trembled? It was because he loves you, and looks on you as a daughter." "But why did he send me to you?"

"I am old-I am in need of you."

"He is also old; he, too, is in need of me."

"You love my brother better than you love me, Catherine. That is wrong," said the old Livonian in a half-reproachful voice. "That is wrong," she repeated.

"Pardon me, madame, but it is true," replied Catherine innocently; "and is it not right and natural? He who saved me, when an infant, from being frozen to death, and ever since has been to me as a father. Oh, I love the pastor of Marienburg as I would have loved my own father, if God had been pleased that I should have known one-as I would have loved a mother. I would freely give my life to save his. But do you not again hear the cannon?"

At this moment a horse stopped at the door of the cottage, and a young man, travel-stained, hastily dismounted. "The Russians are at Marienburg!" exclaimed he, rushing into the apartment. "I have escaped with difficulty to bring this letter from your brother, who has given his horse to expedite me."

"What of the pastor Skovronski?" asked Catherine hurriedly.

"Oh, how happy you ought to be, mademoiselle," said the messenger, "to have neither father, nor mother, nor family."

"You think so, Paul?" replied Catherine with a look of scorn which she did not attempt to conceal.

"Yes, mademoiselle; for you are not obliged to break your heart by leaving them."

"And wherefore do you leave them?"

They besought me on their knees to do so, and now I tremble for them."

"Persons do not tremble for those whom they may defend," replied Catherine. "But tell me, what has occurred at Marienburg?"

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Why, mademoiselle, do you not hear the cannon? General

Scheremetief, with his army, is bombarding Marienburg. Oh, it is a cruel sight to behold!"

"My benefactor, my father!" cried Catherine sobbing.

"Thy benefactor, thy father," said Madame Alexina, having finished the perusal of the letter, "conjures thee by all that is sacred not to leave me. He thinks it is his duty to remain with those intrusted to his care, and asks for our prayers for his safety; and if God wills that his life should be the sacrifice, he leaves thee all he possesses."

"Madame Alexina," said Catherine, taking her hand and raising it to her lips respectfully, “ you have a heart-you are good, and you will understand me. I return to Marienburg! In this I must be disobedient."

"But you have not heard what Paul has said that the Russians are already in the town," replied Alexina, endeavouring to hold her hand.

"I'll go to find my benefactor."

"But by this time, mademoiselle," observed Paul, “all the inhabitants are either dead or taken prisoners."

"I shall then die with them, or be a prisoner," cried Catherine, raising her head, and speaking in a tone of determination. Slipping her hand from that of the old Livonian, she suddenly sprang on the horse which Paul had left at the door, and before either he or the old lady could recover from their surprise, she had disappeared.

The evening was closing as a horse covered with foam reached the border of the wood lying nearest to the gates of Marienburg. At the moment it emerged from the shade of the trees, a man suddenly seized the bridle.

"Where are you going?" demanded he of the rider in a peremptory tone.

What is that to you?" was the reply in an equally peremptory voice.

Astonished by this boldness, the stranger's arm was raised to inflict summary punishment; but, on perceiving that it was a girl who spoke, he desisted, and repeated, though in a milder tone, "Where are you going?"

"What is that to you?" again repeated the young girl. "I am in haste, and I pray you to let me pass."

"You of course are not aware, then, that the town is in the hands of the Russians?" said the man, still retaining the bridle. "Well, what then?" interrupted Catherine, for it was she indeed who spoke.

"That all the inhabitants are prisoners; and if you pursue your route, you also will be taken."

"Thank you for your advice; but know in your turn, monsieur, that he whom I look up to as a father is in the town, and I am determined to share his fate, whatever it may be."

"But if he is a prisoner ?"

"I will be a prisoner too."

"But if he is dead?"

This supposition rendered Catherine mute; but recovering her courage and self-possession, she said with sweetness, "I have told you, monsieur, that I should like to share his fate."

"Go, then, and God preserve you," answered the man, letting go the bridle of the horse, which started off at once at full gallop.

She had not gone many paces when a loud "Who goes there?" was heard, and Catherine not answering, a ball whistled by her so close as to tear the sleeve of her dress. She immediately drew the horse.

up

"Well, when I reply to you "Tis I!' will you be much the wiser ?" cried she.

She was immediately surrounded by a number of rough and barbarous-looking men.

"Dismount, my pretty girl, and follow us," said one who, from the tone he assumed, appeared to be their officer.

But Catherine, perceiving amongst the men him whom she had met at the border of the forest, and whom she immediately recognised by his noble and majestic bearing, contrasting so favourably with the rude men by whom he was surrounded, said, addressing him," Monsieur, I pray you to speak to these men to let me go you know that I am but a poor child, incapable of doing harm."

"I have told you what would happen if you pursued your route," replied the young unknown: then turning to the Cossack officer, he added, "Do your duty!"

"Your name?" asked the soldier of the young girl.

"Catherine," replied she quickly. "I am the adopted child of the pastor Skovronski. I left him yesterday morning by his wish-I return to-day by my own. Let me pass, I pray you."

The officer exchanged a glance with the stranger to whom she had first appealed, and then replied, "Thou art a Livonian. Livonia belongs this day to our czar, Peter I. of Russia-you are therefore a prisoner. Come, dismount, if you do not wish me to assist you, and follow us to prison."

"Touch me not!" said Catherine, her beautiful dark eyes flashing with a look beyond her years. Leaping from her horse, she added, "I did not return to Marienburg solely to be made a prisoner, but to find my adopted father. Conduct me then to him -in his house-in a dungeon-no matter where, so that be with him."

may

"It is not for prisoners to dictate their orders,” replied the officer, amused by the boldness of the young girl.

Catherine reflected a moment, and then asked, "Who is your chief-your general?"

"General Scheremetief," said the stranger, advancing, having

hitherto kept aloof, though listening with attention to the altercation between Catherine and the Cossack officer.

"I wish, then, to speak to the general.”

Receiving a sign from the unknown, the Cossack ordered her to follow him, and marched in the direction of the town. As Catherine stopped at the gates while the officer was making inquiries as to where the general was to be found, an old woman perceiving her, uttered a cry of despair.

“Oh, my dear child, you will see your protector no more! My poor master!" said she, sobbing; "he is dead on the field of battle. I saw him fall, struck by a Russian bullet, at the moment that he was binding up the wounds of a poor Livonian. He is dead-my poor master!"

Catherine, pale and trembling, asked, “What do you say, Frederika?"

Truth, my dear child, truth!—as will be found on looking for him among the dead."

"And have you, then, left him there without help-without prayers?" asked Catherine quickly.

"What could we do, mademoiselle? The bullets whistled about our ears, killing all they reached."

The Cossack officer said that the general was near them, and bade her follow him. She rather went before than came after him. On entering the tent, the first person she saw was the young unknown; but, without taking further notice of him, seeing that he was not the chief, she threw herself at the feet of the great general whose name had been echoed far and

near.

"A grace, general! for pity's sake, a grace!" said she, raising her hands in the attitude of supplication.

"What does this child want?" demanded the general, turning to the officer who had conducted her to his presence.

"She requests to speak to you, general."

"It is true," replied Catherine. "I believed my protectormy father-to be a prisoner, and wished to share his prison; but I have since learned that he is among the dead. The favour I ask is, to be allowed to seek for his body, that it may be buried in the manner it deserves. Oh, if you had known how good he was-the poor pastor Skovronski!"

The tone of her voice was so peculiar, and her countenance so commanding, yet so ingenuous, that the general, moved at the sight of her youth and courage, said, "The camp is situated outside the walls; if I grant your request, what guarantee shall I have that you will not try to escape?"

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My word!" replied Catherine innocently.

"Go, then," said the general, beckoning her to rise; remember that you belong to me when you return."

"but

The first person Catherine encountered on leaving the tent was Frederika, the pastor's servant. "Come," said she, taking