After remaining on the ground the whole of
the day succeeding the disastrous battle of Brooklyn,
the English general the second night prepared
to attack the works. Washington was advised of
this; and, aware of his inability to resist an assault,
he resolved to attempt to draw off his troops to the
city.

They were, as we have seen, closely blockaded
in their intrenchments; the only passage open that
offered to them the least prospect of escape being in
their rear across the East River, at that point nearly
half a mile wide, to York Island. This avenue,
however, was commanded by the guns of the British
fleet anchored not far below. The whole army
was considered by the English as already in their
power, and the American Congress gave it up as
irrevocably lost.

Notwithstanding its apparent impracticability,
Washington determined to make the attempt to
effect a retreat, and, upon its success or failure, to
stake his reputation and the fate of his troops, if not,
also, the safety of his country. The conception and

[figure description] Page 263.[end figure description]

masterly execution of this plan proved it to be worthy
of his military genius. On the night preceding
the anticipated assault, he drew off his whole
army, numbering nine thousand men, in such silence
and secrecy, that the first intimation General
Howe, who commanded the besieging force,
received of their escape was by the alarm conveyed
by his outposts when, in the morning, they
saw the rear guard of the retreating army half way
across the East River and beyond the reach of their
fire. He therefore prepared immediately to attack
New-York, and Washington to evacuate the city
and retire to the northern part of the island.

Having taken up this historical link to our chain
of fiction, we will now return to our hero, whom,
for the sake of bringing our heroine and Arden
more prominently before the reader, we have purposely
neglected. After leaving his wounded rival,
he executed the order given him by General Putnam,
and through the remainder of the day distinguished
himself by his fearless courage and military
talents. In the retreat from Long Island he
was eminently conspicuous by his activity, coolness,
and presence of mind; displaying at that trying
time the experience of a veteran soldier guided
by the well-directed energy of no common mind.

Would that the romancer were called to unfold
alone his military career! to hold up only the bright
side of the shield! But this is the enviable province
of the historian. The novelist must follow
his characters from the senate and the field; enter
with them into the cabinet and into the hall; and
be beside them in their most sacred retirements.
It is his province to lay open the heart, unfold its
secrets, and let all men read, as in a printed volume,
what is written thereon. Invisibility and
ubiquity are his attributes, and the magic wand

[figure description] Page 264.[end figure description]

he bears endows him with power over all earthly
mysteries. The bright, the beautiful, and the
grand are but spirits of his will and pleasure. At
his bidding the earth lays open her gloomy caverns
and crystal palaces to his eye; the mountains
clothe themselves with purple and roseate clouds,
or bellow with thunder; the lakes, the rivers, the
trees become animate and spiritual. The visible
universe is not so vast that his wonderful power
will not embrace it and bend it to his pleasure.
But here is not the limit of his power. He can
create! He waves his wand, and creatures, beautiful
or hideous, glorious or base, appear. He
speaks, and they are animated. To their number
there is no limit. They are the ministers of his
will and the instruments of his vast power, which
is as unbounded as the firmament, as unfathomable
as the sea.

When the American army were safely landed in
New-York after their extraordinary escape, Burton
hastened to Kingsbridge, where Isabel Ney had
been retained, not to say imprisoned, since he escorted
her there a few days before.

The quarters of General Mifflin were in a villa
formerly occupied by a tory gentleman, then in
arms under General Howe. It was in the midst
of a lawn adorned by noble oaks, and sloping on
one side to the Hudson River, on the other to an
inlet or stream called Spuyten Duyvel Creek, over
which was thrown a light wooden bridge, nearly
hidden in the foliage of overhanging willows and
elms. The dwelling was two stories high, surrounded
by a piazza, with spacious barns and outhouses,
and, altogether, wore an aristocratical air.
Time had soiled its original snowy white, and given
to it a sober hue, which added to its venerable and
baronial aspect. A cupola surmounted the roof,

[figure description] Page 265.[end figure description]

commanding a view of the villages of Harlem
and Bloomingdale; the needlelike spire of Trinity
Church in the distant city; Hell Gate and its
shores; Long Island; the North and East Rivers;
the picturesque bay and its green islands; the beautiful
Jersey shores, and the gigantic wall of the
Palisadoes—the vanguard of the Hudson Highlands—
crowned with its bristling fortress. It was
the first of October, and autumn had flung its gorgeous
drapery over the forests, which seemed to
shine with their own golden light.

The room occupied by Isabel was in the southwest
corner of the mansion, in the second story,
with Venetian windows opening out of it upon the
piazza. She was not kept a close prisoner, but
suffered to walk the grounds during the day, and,
accompanied by General Mifflin, ride a mile or
two along the river's banks. From this officer and
his family she received those attentions and that
sympathy which her circumstances demanded;
and, altogether, her seclusion, aside from its compulsory
character, was not disagreeable.

Burton's first impulse, after he was temporarily
released from the duties of the soldier, was to hasten
to throw himself at the feet of the fair captive.
She received him with undisguised pleasure. The
privacy of the family of General Mifflin and the
seclusion of the spot were favourable to the devotees
of Cupid. The good-natured general was easy
and unsuspicious, and permitted them to ride and
walk together, trusting to the honour and patriotism
of Burton for the security of his prisoner.

We will briefly pass over the growth and maturity
of a passion, the only tendency of which
could alone be the ruin of the trusting one: the
enemy were in possession of New-York, and the
American army had taken its position near

[figure description] Page 266.[end figure description]

Kingsbridge, throwing up lines across the island, not
only to blockade the English by land in the city
which they had captured, but also to check their
farther progress into the country. The headquarters
of the American general were therefore removed
to this part of the island, and now were not
far from Kingsbridge. Burton consequently became
a more frequent visiter to the villa. We
would gladly withhold our pen from recording it!
in a few short weeks the proud and haughty Isabel
Ney became the victim of the fascinating libertine
Edward Burton.

In the mean while Arden recovered from his
wound and was again in the saddle. But in his
duties as a soldier he forgot not those of a lover.
Inmate of the same mansion with Eugenie, he had
a thousand opportunities of bringing that love to
maturity which he had hailed with delight in the
germe. Day after day beheld their growing affection.
Their hearts at length became indissolubly
united. She adored him without impiety; he
worshipped her without forgetting that she was
mortal. Their love was such as would bear the
test of time and trial—that virtuous union of souls
which earth and Heaven unite to render permanent
and happy.

Six weeks had elapsed after the evacuation of
New-York, when one morning Isabel Ney, no longer
the pure but haughty creature we first beheld her,
yet equally as proud and still more beautiful, was
leaning over the balustrade of her prison, watching
the majestic movement of an English frigate
that was making demonstrations as if it were about
to pass Forts Lee and Washington, which guarded
the entrance to the Highlands. Her thoughts were
wandering, but all were tinged with the dark cloud
that had passed over her spirit and tarnished the

[figure description] Page 267.[end figure description]

purity of her young mind. Alas, that the proud,
the beautiful should fall! Where virtue exists not
in the mind, nor purity in the heart, it seems pride
alone should be woman's plate of proof.

She was to meet Burton that evening; and her
thoughts, how far soever they would stray, constantly
turned back to him.

The sentinel below was pacing backward and
forward before the door; the distant roll of drums,
and occasionally the warlike note of a bugle from
the far-distant camp, and, at long intervals, the dull
sound of cannon fired as signals from the fleet, anchored
two leagues below, fell upon her ear, but
as if she heard not. Her bosom heaved painfully,
and her eye was fixed on vacancy. A horseman,
who galloped along the avenue without attracting
her attention, drew up almost beneath her
before she noticed him.

She started with surprise and confusion, but
looked down with eager curiosity, and recognised
in the visiter Major Dearborn, whom she had once
seen for a moment at the quarters of Putnam.

“Good-morning, general,” he said, in reply to a
voice from the door as he reined up. “I see you
hold your spyglass, and have been watching the
motions of yonder frigate. Do you think she will
have the temerity to attempt to run the gauntlet?”

“She is only coquetting,” replied General Mifflin,
in a gay tone of voice. “There! she has already
tacked ship. John Bull is too wise to put
his head into a lion's mouth. Dismount, major.”

“I have some official business with you which
will take but a moment, but it must be in private,”
he said, glancing up at the balcony; and then, dismounting,
he disappeared within the house.

In a few minutes he came out and threw himself
on his horse.

[figure description] Page 268.[end figure description]

“By-the-by, general,” he said, as he was about
to ride off, “do you honour Colonel—I beg his
pardon, these promotions confuse one—General
Arden with your presence this evening?”

“Presence? Where?”

“Have you not heard that he is about to be united
in the bonds of Hymen to-night with the lovely
Canadian who has lately fallen heir to a French
title and estate?”

“I thought Colonel Burton was to carry off that
prize.”

“Burton!” repeated Dearborn, with a laugh;
“the earl has drawn so many lefthanded prizes of
this sort that he ought to resign this to his rival.”

“Earl?”

“So much for rusticating here out of the world,
general. It is a soubriquet the staff confer upon
him in honour of his prototype, Rochester; a nomme
d'amour. By-the-by, you have heard that Arden's
wounds were received in a snug little duello
with Colonel Burton, as a sort of by-play or episode
in the grand battle; and all for this pretty
runaway nun!”

“Yes. But did Colonel Burton really run away
with her?” asked General Mifflin, with homely simplicity.

“That did he. The whole affair was sufficiently
romantic. What is more, after he left Canada,
she followed him out of pure love, and Arden saved
her from one of those plots he sometimes lays for
the young and lovely of the sex. Faith! Burton
should have been a pacha with three tails; not one
less.”

“Is it true that he betrayed Captain Germaine's
daughter?”

“Most true,” replied the officer, with warmth;
“and true, also, that he intended to replace her by

[figure description] Page 269.[end figure description]

Eugenie de Lisle, if her own virtue and Arden's
good sword had not protected her.”

“I shall keep an eye on him when he next comes
here. It's well there is no game here for him except
this English miss, who has got spirit enough
to take care of herself.”

“The very women that soonest fall. Better
keep an eye on them both, general,” he said, as he
rode off.

“Keep an eye on them?” he repeated, musingly;
“I fear 'twill be shutting the stable-door after the
horse is stolen. If there's mischief in the wind
it's over before this. This Colonel Burton has not
been here for nothing, it seems. Too late! too
late!” he added, as he entered the house.

“Not too late for revenge!” said Isabel, slowly
articulating each syllable through her compressed
lips.

Not a word of the foregoing conversation had
escaped her ear.

“Burton, then, has wooed and won Isabel Ney,”
she said, with flashing eyes, “as another instrument
of his pleasures. Then leaving my feet—yes,
my arms!—to throw himself into those of another!
If my love be a guilty one, I will have no rival in it!”

She entered her chamber and paced the room for
an hour with a swelling heart and burning brain.
At length the rigidity of her brow relaxed; her
flashing eye assumed a steadier expression, yet
parted with none of its indignant light; her closed
lips, save a slight curl of the upper one, resumed
their wonted expression; yet there was no colour
in her cheek, and her bosom rose and fell as if her
heart were pressing outward with its unnatural fulness.
Fearful, wonderful was the settled calmness
of her look and manner! But it was the quiet of
the volcano the moment before it bursts into flame.

[figure description] Page 270.[end figure description]

A noise of horsemen without drew her to the
balcony. A British officer, the same noble-looking
cavalier who had tilted with Burton, at the instant
drew up on the plateau beneath, bearing a flag of
truce. He was courteously received by General
Mifflin and invited into the house. From a few
words that escaped him as he entered the hall, Isabel
learned that his mission was to treat for her
release. All at once, as if she had come to some
sudden resolution, she re-entered her room, seated
herself at her escritoir, and hurriedly, yet with a
steady hand, wrote with her pencil upon a slip of
paper the following words:

“At eight to-night send a boat with four men
to the grove of maples two hundred yards below
the bridge. An American officer of rank shall be
there placed in your power. Hide your men on
the shore beneath the overhanging rock. When
you hear the signal, `seize your prisoner,' obey it.
Bring no firearms, lest you alarm the guard. Be
secret and punctual.

She returned to the balcony and awaited the officer's
reappearance. In a short time the door opened
and he came forth.

“The proposition shall be made known to the
commander-in-chief, sir,” said General Mifflin,
“and I have no doubt of his compliance with it.”

“To-morrow, then, I will return for your answer.”

“Have you just landed from yonder frigate, Major
Andre?”

“I have, sir.”

“I thought she was trying to dodge up the river;
but was only manœuvring, I see, to land you.”

The gentlemen courteously exchanged parting

[figure description] Page 271.[end figure description]

salutes; the officer turned to ride off, and the door
closed. As he was passing beneath the balcony
Isabel waved her handkerchief, which startled the
horse and caused his rider to look up. She placed
her finger on her lip, displayed the paper, and, hastily
folding it in her handkerchief, dropped it. He
caught it, smiled, bowed, and galloped out of sight.

A few minutes before nine o'clock the same
evening, Burton and Isabel stood together on the
bridge, beneath an elm which grew on the banks,
and cast a deep shadow over the spot; Zacharie,
holding a horse and mounted on another, was on
the roadside at a little distance. The night was
the loveliest of the mellow American autumn; the
stream rippled past musically, loudly complaining
as it encountered the piers of the bridge which
entered its placid breast; the air was motionless;
the woods moved with a pleasant sound; the stars
were out; and the moon, high in the east, threw
vast masses of light and shade over the scene.

Burton leaned upon the railing as if in thought;
Isabel hung on his arm seemingly in all the confidence
and artlessness of innocence and affection.
A guilty pair! The one cold and indifferent with
possession, yet feigning the semblance of love;
the other breathing the language of affection in
his ear, while her heart was filled with the bitterness
of hate, and her insulted spirit burning with
the triumph of anticipated revenge.

“My dear Burton, I fear you love me less; you
do not bear that look of devotion you once did. I
have madly loved you, and my affection should
meet a kinder return than this cold manner.”

Isabel spoke with sincerity and with feeling.

“I am not changed, Isabel,” he replied, rousing
himself with an effort and passing his arm around
her; “it is only your idle fancy that leads you to

[figure description] Page 272.[end figure description]

think so. I love you, dear Isabel. You alone
share my heart and fill my thoughts.”

“'Tis false!” was the reply that came to her lips,
but she suppressed it. At this instant the faint dip
of an oar caught her vigilant ear, and she fondly said,

“Let us walk farther. The night invites to
ramble.”

Leaning upon his arm, she turned down a path
leading by the side of the water, and shortly after
they entered a grove through which the road pleasantly
wound. Not far from the entrance of the
wood was a large rock, with aged trees growing
upon it; its base was washed by the waves. Towards
it she carelessly led, as if she guided him
not, the moody and silent Burton.

“Edward,” she said, with energy and feeling,
as if continuing a conversation, “I do not blame
you. You have broken no vow. I asked not, you
promised not, marriage. All I sought, all I cared
for, was your love. Happy in that, I looked not
beyond it. But,” she added, with a sudden change
of voice and manner, her tones sinking into a low,
distinct, energetic whisper, “Edward Burton, you
have been false to me!”

“False?”

“Do you know Caroline Germaine?” she fiercely
demanded.

“Ha!”

“Eugenie de Lisle?”

“Isabel!”

“You are a villain, sir!” she cried, in a voice of
settled yet fearful passion. “I hate you. Love
has fled from my bosom, guilty though it might
have been. Hatred—revenge has taken its place.”

“Good God, Isabel, be calm.”

“Calm? Ha, ha, ha!”

“You are in error.”

[figure description] Page 273.[end figure description]

“For what pastime, pray, did you cross blades
with Colonel Arden?” she asked, with lofty scorn.

“Isabel!”

“Silence.”

“Forgive—”

“Never.”

“The flawed chain that bound me to you is well
broken, then,” he said, carelessly. “'Tis a kindness
for which I stand in your debt.”

“The debt shall now be cancelled,” she exclaimed
triumphantly; and then, in an elevated tone, she
cried, “Seize your prisoner.”

Instantly four soldiers, headed by an officer, appeared
from behind the rock and advanced with
drawn swords upon him.

Although taken by surprise, Burton's coolness
and presence of mind did not forsake him. He
threw off Isabel's hand, which she had forcibly laid
on his wrist, and sprung back, at the same time
drawing a pistol from his breast and firing upon
the leader. Then unsheathing his sword, he prepared
to receive his foes. The ball from his pistol
missed the officer and wounded one of the soldiers.
Enraged at the fall of their comrade, they
furiously advanced upon him. He retreated till he
gained a large tree, when, placing his back against
it, he waited to receive their assault.

“On your lives, wound him not,” said the officer,
who, from his uniform, was a captain of marines.

Burton received them with spirit, and met their
efforts to disarm him with skill and success. At
length he severely wounded one of his assailants,
when the others, forgetting their officer's injunction,
vigorously pressed him with the determination to
cut him down, and gave him, though not without
receiving, several severe wounds. He was nearly
exhausted, and was about to tender his sword to

[figure description] Page 274.[end figure description]

the officer, who had stood by Isabel as if to detain
her, when Zacharie's voice was heard in the entrance
of the wood,

“Hold out! There is rescue at hand. Hasten,
you lubbers. Will you see an American officer
hacked up?”

While he was speaking he came down the path
at full speed, holding in each hand one of his master's
pistols, which he had taken from the holsters,
and followed close at his heels by half a score of
soldiers with fixed bayonets.

“Leave your game, and to the boat,” cried the
officer, as they came in sight.

The men precipitately retreated to a barge concealed
behind the rock, not, however, without receiving
the contents of one of Zacharie's pistols.
The other was wrested from his hand by Isabel.

“You shall not escape, Burton. My revenge is
not yet complete,” she fiercely cried, levelling the
pistol at his breast. “Perish thy false heart!”

Zacharie caught her arm as she fired, and the
ball passed through Burton's shoulder. He instantly
fell.

“My revenge is complete. I can now forgive
myself for my folly in loving you. Adieu. In after
years we shall meet again.”

The next instant she sprang into the boat as it
was putting off from the shore, and was swiftly
carried by the rapid current into the dark shadows
of the trees out of sight.

The soldiers had presented their muskets and
were about to fire, when Burton faintly said,

“Hold! There is a female in the boat. Let
them escape. I have deserved this.”

He muttered a few words of self-accusation, and
then sunk into insensibility.

A few moments after Burton and Isabel had left

[figure description] Page 275.[end figure description]

the bridge, the relief-guard passed on its way to the
quarters of the commander-in-chief, which were
situated on a rising ground about a quarter of a
mile distant. When Zacharie heard the report of
the pistol fired by Burton, and the loud, quick voices
of the assailants, he suspected that he had been
attacked; and, governed by the first impulse of his
active mind, he rode after the guard and gave the
alarm, though not certain that it might not be a
false one. As he advanced before the soldiers he
heard the clashing of the combatants' swords, and,
hastening forward, effected the timely diversion in
Burton's favour.

He now raised the form of his master and stanched
the blood. The soldiers, hastily forming a litter
of boughs, placed him upon it and bore him towards
the headquarters, to leave him under the charge of
the surgeon.

Slowly they wound their way through the dark
woods; the moonlight, struggling through the foliage,
glancing at intervals over the pale features of
the wounded man. As they approached the mansion
occupied by the military family of the American
general, lights from the windows, which were
brightly illuminated as if a festival were within,
shone through the forest and guided them to the
place of their destination.

At length they passed a soldier on guard, and,
reaching the lawn before the house, came full upon
the gay scene. Advancing towards the portico,
the soldiers rested their burden before the open
windows, while Zacharie hastened to give information
of the condition of his master. The scene
that met the eyes of these men was exceedingly
brilliant. The long windows, which reached to the
ground, were thrown open, for the night was warm,
and displayed the interior lighted up with great

[figure description] Page 276.[end figure description]

splendour. Officers in rich uniforms, and ladies in
flowing white robes, glanced before their eyes. It
was a reunion of beauty and valour. All was dazzling
bright, and gayety and happiness. How great
the contrast between this scene and the rude litter!
its insensible burden and rough bearers!

All at once, through a door at which stood
Jacques and the servants looking in upon the
scene, a dignified clergyman, in the robes of the
Church of England, entered the room. He was
attended by several officers of high rank, distinguished
among whom stood General Washington.

At their entrance a young officer, in the rich uniform
of one of high rank, came forth from the
crowd, which gradually formed into a circle. His
handsome features were chastened by a quiet smile
of inward happiness. He led by the hand a female
of dazzling beauty, with downcast eyes and
a conscious, delicate blush upon her cheeks, like
the reflection of a roseleaf upon a lily. He gazed
upon her with pride as she stood tremblingly beside
him. They were Arden and Eugenie.

The clergyman opened his book. General
Washington advanced and placed the hand of the
maiden in that of her lover. The service was
read; a ring was placed on the finger of the maiden,
and she became a bride. A murmur of pleasure
ran through the assembly. A short prayer was offered
up by the holy man, when the buzz of delight
again filled the room.

Many were the beautiful lips that pressed the
cheek of the happy bride, but none so beautiful
as hers; and many were the brave soldiers who
grasped the hand of the bridegroom and wished
him happiness, but none of so gallant a presence.

When the clergyman entered the room, Burton
revived and looked around. The glare of light

[figure description] Page 277.[end figure description]

attracted his attention. He raised himself convulsively
upon his elbow, and gazed with burning eyeballs
on the whole ceremony; beheld the proud
and happy look of Arden; the subdued, virgin joy
of Eugenie.

His hand instinctively sought his sword; the
blood spouted from his lip as he pierced it in the
madness of his impotent rage; and making an effort
to rise to his feet when he saw Arden place
the ring on Eugenie's finger, he fell back again insensible,
with his hands clinched and a curse dying
upon his tongue.

The subsequent destinies of Isabel Ney and the
remaining characters of our romance, as well as
that of our hero, are familiar matters of history;
but possibly may afford materials for another story,
to be laid a quarter of a century later. Father
Bonaventure, Porter Homfroy, and our monkly
brethren in the valley of the Chaudiere, lived to a
good old age, died, and were buried. Sister Agnes
died a maid. Zacharie eventually listed in the
wars; and after a restless and adventurous career,
in which he gained great reputation as a soldier, became
conspicuous in a famous conspiracy against
the state. As for Jacques, though he contrived, by
a sort of fatality, to figure in all the subsequent
great battles of the war, he was deterred by his
praiseworthy philanthropy from arriving at that distinction
which, to believe his own words, he had
earned by numerous sanguinary conflicts in season
and out of season, and by countless wounds
and bruises both on “hip and thigh.”