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In the meanwhile, and almost before her disappearance
had been noticed by a single person, so
great was the confusion at the moment the outlaws
burst into the room, Hyland Gilbert had borne
the insensible Catherine into the porch, and strove
to carry her from the house. His strength was
scarce fitted to sustain such an exertion; for, in
truth, although none of the dwellers of Hawk-Hollow
were apprised of his mishap, until he revealed
the secret to Colonel Falconer a few hours
before, the bullet of his rival, in their encounter on
the night of the fourth, had taken effect, and he
was yet labouring under the effects of an unhealed
wound. He was now, however, animated by a
new feeling; for as he clasped the burthen to his
heart, he remembered that the outrage had been
sanctioned not merely by passive acquiescence on
Catherine's part, but had been preceded by a direct
appeal, as it seemed, to his affection, though wrung
almost by frenzy from the unhappy girl, in the moment
of her greatest need. “Heaven be thanked!”
he muttered to himself—“I am not a villain; and
this deed of violence has preserved her happiness,
as well as my own miserable life.”

“What! brother?” cried a harsh voice in his
ear, as he attempted to stagger forward, and found

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himself arrested by the hand of Oran: “What,
man, am I not both doctor and brother?—a good
doctor, too? You shall look up now, and be healed
in a day—heart-whole, body-whole! I knew what
it was was killing you.”

Fierce and abrupt were the accents of the refugee;
but there was mingled with them a tone singularly
expressive of affection.—“And were you
not a fool to doubt,” he added, “when you had
the love of the maiden? But come, Hyland; this
duty is not for you—give her here to Staples”—

“Never, Oran, never!”

“Foolish boy, you are sinking under her weight.
You must ride unburthened, or be captured. When
the fresh air opens her eyes, and she can sit a
horse herself, you shall ride at her side. Quick!
and get you after her to the horses.”

With these words, and without regarding the
opposition of the feeble lover, he drew the lady
from his arms, and putting her into charge of another,
bade him `see to her, and the rest,' and then
immediately darted back to the house.

“Perhaps it is better,” muttered Hyland, conscious
of his inability much longer to support his
precious freight, yet resolved she should not be
long sustained in the arms of another. “I have
saved her,—I have saved myself; ay, and I have
prevented murder, too. Go, Oran; the victim is
beyond your reach. Ah! Catherine, thou hadst
been dearly purchased, had it been with blood,—
even with the blood of a Falconer!”

He was still pursuing after his mistress, and had
nearly reached the park-gate, when his ear was
saluted by a piercing scream from behind, and the
voice of Miss Falconer, which he instantly recognised,
calling for help. He ran back, and discovered
her struggling in the arms of Monsieur
Tiqueraque, who was bearing her along at a great

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pace, and all the time uttering, with a volubility
not a little inflamed by his frequent visits to the
bottle, in which he had quite distinguished himself,
a thousand exhortations to the lady to be pacified,
with as many eccentric commendations of her
beauty and his own good qualities.

“Tuchou! taisez vous, ou-at de deb'l! mon ange,
ma petite, ma maîtresse, avec les yeux noirs d'un
diablotin!” he heard him cry, “ou-y for you fear?
comment diantre, ou-y for you squeak? You are
the mos' fine leddee of all, and I am the mos' excellent
jentlemans, and I s'all love you, begar, mos'
extremely. Fi donc! you mus' know, I am jentlemans
in disguise, and have you love 'is sis mon's,
and s'all make you very good lovare. O ciel, begar,
I do so sink you ver' beautiful, and I s'all give
you on' douzaine kiss extreme fine, mon dieu, if
you s'all no squeak no more.”

“What, Sterling, are you mad!” cried Hyland,
seizing this incorrigible adventurer and exemplary
wooer by the arm. “Release the lady instantly—
you have made a mistake.”

“Diablezot! none in the world,” said the man of
many coats, changing character with the facility
of an `old stager.'—The sudden transformation
operated even more effectually than the voice of
the detested Gilbert, in frightening Miss Falconer
into silence. “And harkee, Mr. Lieutenant Hawk,”
he went on, with great equanimity, “stick to your
own prizes,—follow your own Blowselinda.”

“Rogue, do you resist me?—Come, sir, you
have been drinking!”

“Drinking in your teeth!” said Sterling, in whom
`the good familiar creature' had the effect of rather
sharpening than changing any of his characteristics.
“`Back and syde, go bare, go bare,”' as
old Gummer Gurton says:

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`Now let them drynke till they nod and winke,
Even as good felowes shoulde doe;
They shall not mysse to have the blisse
Good ale doth bringe men to.'

“But `this is my right hand, and this is my left'
what more would you have? Do you think I am
to be kept on your cursed Adam's ale of the mountains
for ever? `Dost thou think, because thou art
virtuous, there shall be no more cakes and ale?'
And finally, Mr. Lieutenant Chicken-hawk, dost
thou opine thou shalt have thy bottle and thy
wench, and I”—

“In a word, scoundrel,” said Hyland, clapping
a pistol to his head, and thus bringing the madman
to his senses, “unhand the lady, or I will
blow your brains out.”

“Zounds, sir,”—

“No words, sir. Get you to the horses; and
thank your stars I do not report your villanous
conduct to the Captain.”

The volunteer, who had indeed made freer with
one item of the bridal cheer than became a man,
who, as he had hinted, had been confined to a
beverage of the mountain brook, since his association
with the band, grumbled a drunken oath or
two betwixt his teeth, and immediately slunk away,
leaving his captive to be disposed of by the subaltern.

“You are free, Miss Falconer,” said the young
man, speaking with a smothered voice. “The
evil you have done me I forgive you; the cruelty
you meditated and practised against another, I
leave to be judged by heaven and your own conscience.—
False friend! treacherous kinswoman!
your victim is beyond the reach of your inhumanity.”

“You are a villain, sir!” cried Harriet,

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exasperated out of her fear,—“the worst of villains,—an
ungrateful one!”—

What more she might have said and done, on
the impulse which restored her all her native
energy, it is impossible to say; but just at that moment
her ears were struck by the wailing of a
female voice; and looking round, she saw, obscurely,
for the night was very dark with clouds,
though a new moon was in the sky, a horseman
ride by, bearing a woman across his saddle-bow,
and apparently greatly embarrassed by her struggles.
Her first idea was that she beheld her un-unlucky
friend, not yet snatched beyond her reach;
and accordingly she darted forward, and with extraordinary
intrepidity, seized the bridle-rein with
one hand, while with the other she grasped at the
captive's garments, bidding her leap down, and
crying out loudly for help.

“You are insane, Miss Falconer!” said Hyland,
endeavouring to draw her aside; “Catherine is
safe, and this is but Phœbe, who follows her.”

“Oh! Miss Harriet!” cried the serving-maid,
with a piteous voice, “don't let 'em murder me;
and oh! Mr. Hunter Gilbert! sure you won't be so
barbarous! and sure I never did you any harm in
my life, and sure”—

But her words were cut short by her ravisher
suddenly spurring his horse, as Harriet, in surprise
and disappointment, let go her hold, and immediately
darting out of the park.

By this time there was a great flashing of lights
on the porch, as if the wedding-guests were recovering
from their confusion, and preparing to
avenge the outrage, before it was yet too late.
This Harriet saw, and she observed besides that
the dusky figures which had, ever and anon, for
the last few moments, been flitting by, towards the
road, one or two of them being on horseback, and

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who, she doubted not, belonged to the refugee
band, had ceased passing, as if the last had already
left the park. It was at this moment that she felt
the touch of Hyland Gilbert's hand on her arm, as
he endeavoured to draw her from Phœbe; and as
she jerked away, she became sensible how feeble
was the grasp of this detested foe. An idea,
worthy of an Amazon, entered her mind; and forgetting
the act of generosity which had but an
instant before relieved her own person from the
clutches of a drunken and lawless desperado, she
laid hands upon her deliverer, thinking only on
vengeance. As she seized him, she screamed
loudly for assistance, calling upon her brother, Mr.
Brooks, and others, by name; and had they made
their appearance, or any one of them, it is certain
she would have secured her prisoner. He was
confounded by an exhibition of spirit so unexpected;
and not knowing how to release himself, unless
by such an exertion of his remaining strength as
he could scarce think of exercising at the expense
of a woman, he was reduced to extremity; when
a horseman, coming from the house, suddenly galloped
up, stretched out his hand, and with a single
effort, jerked her from the ground to his saddle-bow.

“Quick,” he cried to Hyland; “why do you
tarry? To your horse, and away.”

So saying he spurred onwards himself. The
voice, breathing out the harsh accents of the trader,—
the refugee, the man to capture whom she
had launched so boldly among the billows of stratagem,
and almost of war,—froze the blood of the
maiden, and the sight of his grim features, revealed
in the glare of distant lamps, completed the overthrow
of a courage which had supported her in a
struggle with one so little to be feared as Hyland.
Her brain whirled, her senses became bewildered,

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as she felt the steed bounding beneath her, and
knew that every leap, while it separated her still
further from her friends, placed her yet more completely
in the power of the refugee. But it formed
no part of his schemes to add her to the number of
his captives. He checked his steed at the park-gate,
dropped her gently on the grass, and uttering
a yell, to draw the attention of another horse-man,
approaching from the house, galloped
through the gate and was soon buried in the darkness.
The second horseman, who was no other
than the captain of cavalry, rode up to the spot,
dismounted, and uttering many ejaculations of surprise,
took the lady in his arms, and with her
returned to the mansion. He found its inmates
still in extreme agitation, the women weeping and
screaming, the men swearing, and bustling, and
vociferating for arms and horses, with which they
designed to do they knew not what, and Captain
Loring roaring like a bedlamite.

“Mount horses, gentlemen,” he cried, “and by
the eternal Jupiter, we'll recover the prisoners. A
rum one, that Mr. Gentleman-volunteer! Come,
mount, mount, and keep the chase warm, till a better
force can follow us. There's a regiment of
foot billeted in the village below—let some one
gallop down for a reinforcement; the rest follow
me. If we can't fight the vagabonds, why, by the
eternal Jupiter, we can dog them.”

The proposal of captain Caliver was responded
to by such as could think without alarm of following
the fierce marauders, by midnight, into their
native forests; and in a surprisingly short space of
time, they set out, six in number, to pursue on
the course of the fugitives, and keep them within
striking distance, until assistance should arrive. A
messenger was immediately despatched to the village,
and some two or three of those gaping

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supernumeraries, whose intrusion into the house has
been already mentioned, volunteered to carry the
alarm among the neighbouring settlements, and
thus rouse the whole country to pursuit and vengeance.

The little party of six, headed by young Falconer
and Caliver, issuing from the park, began the
chase by galloping up the road, already made familiar
to the leaders by the memorable adventure
of the 4th. Assistance was nearer at hand than
they thought; and almost before the trampling of
their horses had died on the ear, a large party of
mounted men, with Colonel Falconer at their head,
halted at the gate. In obeying the counsel of the
young refugee to leave Hawk-Hollow without delay,
this individual had not been governed alone by
fears for his personal safety. The appearance of
Hyland Gilbert so near to the scene of festivity,
convinced him, as strongly as did his urgent exhortations
to fly, that the ferocious band of Hawks,
though supposed long since to have effected its
escape, was yet lying concealed in the neighbourhood,
meditating some deed of violence, though
what that was, unless to burn Gilbert's Folly to the
earth, as the only way of wreaking vengeance
upon him, he could not pretend to divine. It was
enough, however, that such an enemy was at
hand; and, accordingly, when he rode to the village,
it was with the purpose of summoning such
a force to the valley as should protect its inhabitants,
if it did not effect the still better object of
ridding it from such visitants for ever. He sought
the commander of the regiment already spoken of;
and his representations, added to the weight of his
character, were enough to cause that officer to
take instant measures for the protection of Hawk-Hollow.
A party of sixty picked men, mounted
for the occasion, was put under his disposal; while

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several other companies were ordered to follow on
foot. While on the road, he was met by the messenger
sent by the captain of cavalry, with the
stunning intelligence of the outrage, as it has been
already related. Inflamed by the news, the party
put spurs to their horses, and were soon in the
Hollow. They paused at the park-gate, just long
enough to communicate with the house, and ascertain
that the pursuit was already begun by the
bridegroom; and then resuming their route, they
were in a few moments beyond the swelling ridge
that shut in the Hollow to the north.

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