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What were the designs of the tory? “What bloody
scene had Roscious now to act?” Could it be that Barsfield
was really prompted by a new emotion of generous
hostility? Had his feelings undergone a change,
and did he really feel an honourable desire, and meditate
to save his rival Mellichampe from an ignominious
death, only for the self-satisfying vengeance which he
promised to himself from the employment of his own
weapon? No! These were not the thoughts—not the
purposes of the malignant tory. The Half-Breed was
not deceived by the gracious and strange shows of newborn
benevolence which appeared to prompt him. Had
the death of Mellichampe been certain, as the result of
his threatened trial, Barsfield would have been content
to have obeyed his orders, and to carry the victim to
Charleston, for trial and execution. But that fate was
not certain. He felt assured, too, that it was not even
probable. Cornwallis and Tarleton, both, had shed
more blood wantonly already than they could well account
or atone for to public indignation. The British
House of Commons already began to declaim upon the
wanton and brutal excesses which popular indignation
had ascribed to the British commanders in America; and
the officers of the southern invading armies now half
repented of the crimes which, in the moment of exasperation,
they had been tempted to commit upon those
who, as they were familiarly styled rebels, seemed consequently
to have been excluded hitherto from the consideration
due to men. There was a pause in that
sanguinary mood which had heretofore stimulated Cornwallis,
Rawdon, Tarleton, Balfour, and a dozen other

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petty tyrants of the time and country, to the most atrocious
offences against justice and humanity. They began
to feel, if not the salutary rebukings of conscience,
the more obvious suggestions of fear; for, exasperated
to madness by the reckless want of consideration shown
to their brethren in arms when becoming captives to the
foe, the officers of the southern American forces, banded
and scattered, pledged themselves solemnly in writing
to retaliate in like manner, man for man, upon such
British officers as should fall into their hands; thus voluntarily
offering themselves to a liability, the heavy responsibilities
of which sufficiently guarantied their sincerity.
To the adoption of this course they also required
a like pledge from the commander-in-chief; and General
Greene was compelled to acquiesce in their requisition.
The earnest character of these proceedings,
known as they were to the enemy, had its effect; and the
rebukes of conscience were more respected when coupled
with the suggestions of fear.

Barsfield knew that the present temper of his superiors
was not favourable to the execution of Mellichampe.
He also felt that his own testimony against the youth
must be unsatisfactory, if met by that of Mr. Berkeley
and his daughter. He dreaded that Mellichampe
should reach Charleston, though as a prisoner, and
become known in person to any of the existing powers,
as he well knew the uncertain tenure by which the
possessions were secured which had been alloted to him
in a moment of especial favour by the capricious generosity
of the British commander. Guilt, in this way,
for ever anticipates and fears the thousand influences
which it raises up against itself; and never ceases to
labour in providing against events, which for a long time
it may baffle, but which, in the moment of greatest security,
must concentrate themselves against all its feeble
barriers, and overthrow them with a breath.

Barsfield had also his personal hostility to gratify,

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and of this he might be deprived if his prisoner reached
the city in safety. His present design was deeply
laid, therefore, in order that he might not be defrauded.
Janet Berkeley was to be the instrument by which Mellichampe
was to be taught to apprehend for his life, as
a convicted spy under a military sentence. The ignominious
nature of such a doom would, he was well
aware, prompt the youth to seize upon any and every
chance to escape from custody. This opportunity was
to be given him, in part. The guards were to be so
placed as at the given moment to leave the passage
from his chamber free. The road was to be cleared
for him at a designated point, and this road, under the
guidance of Blonay, the youth was to pursue. But it
was no part of Barsfield's design to suffer his escape.
An ambush was to be laid for the reception of the fugitive,
and here the escaping prisoner was to be shot
down without a question; and, as he was an escaping
prisoner, such a fate, Barsfield well knew, might be inflicted
with the most perfect impunity. The cruel
scheme was closely treasured in his mind, and only such
portions of his plan, as might seem noble without the
rest, were permitted to appear to the obtuse sense of the
Half-Breed, who was destined to perish at the same moment
with the prisoner he was employed to set free.
Long and closely did the two debate together on the
particular steps to be taken for carrying the scheme of
the tory into execution; and it was arranged that, while
he, Barsfield, should, in the progress of the same day,
apprize Janet of the contemplated removal of Mellichampe
to the city for his trial, Blonay should mature
his plan for approaching the maiden on a subject in
which, to succeed at all, it was necessary that the utmost
delicacy of address should be observed. The Half-Breed
was to assume a new character. He was to appear
before her with an avowal of sympathy which seemed
rather a mockery, coming from one so incapable and

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low. He was to make a profession of regard for her,
and for him whom she regarded, and thus obtain her confidence,
without which he could do nothing. Barsfield
did not believe it possible for such a creature to feel, and
his only fear was that the task would be too novel and
too difficult for him to perform decently and with success.
But the tory was mistaken in his man. He did
not sufficiently dive into the nature of the seemingly obdurate
wretch before him; and he had not the most distant
idea of the occult and mysterious causes of sympathy
for the maiden which were at work in the breast
of the savage, whom he loathed even while employing,
and for whom he meditated the same doom of death, at
the same time, which his hands were preparing for Mellichampe.

But Blonay saw through his intentions; and, confident
that the plan was designed for the murder of Mellichampe,
he suspected, at the same time, the design
upon himself.

“He won't want me after that,” he muttered to himself,
as soon as he got into the woods; and he chuckled
strangely and bitterly as he thought over the affair. In
the woods he could think freely, and he soon conceived
the entire plan of his employer. He determined accordingly.
He was a tactician, and knew how much
was to be made out of the opinion entertained by Barsfield
of his stolidity. He was an adept at that art
which governs men by sometimes adopting, seemingly,
their own standards of judgment.

He went instantly back to the tory, and, drawing from
his purse the sum of five guineas which the other had
given while engaging him, he spoke thus, while returning
it:—

“I reckon, cappin, you'd better git somebody else to
do your business for you in this 'ere matter. I can't.”

“Can't! why?” responded Barsfield, in astonishment.

“Well, you see, cappin—I've been thinking over the

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business, and, you see, I can't see it to the bottom. I
don't understand it.”

“And what then? Why should you understand it?
You have only to do what is told you. I understand it,
and that's enough, I imagine.”

“I reckon not, cappin—axing your pardon. I never
meddles with business I don't understand. If so be
you says, `Go to the chap's room, and put your knife in
him,' I'll do that for the money; but I can't think of the
other business. I don't see to the bottom,—it's all up
and down, and quite a confusion to me.”

The proposal to murder Mellichampe off-hand for the
five guineas would have been accepted instantly, were
it the policy of Barsfield to have it done after that fashion;
but he dared not close with the tempting offer.
The willingness of Blonay, however, to commit the act,
had the effect upon Barsfield's mind which the Half-Breed
desired. It induced a degree of confidence in
him which the tory was previously disposed to withhold.
He now sought to test his agent a little more closely.

“And you will go now to his room and put him to
death for the same money?”

“Say the word, cappin,” was the ready response,
uttered with the composure of one whose mind is made
up to the performance of the deed. The tory paused—
he dared not comply.

“And why not help in getting him clear? Where's
the difference?”

“'Cause I can't see what you want to clear him for,
when you want to kill him, and when you knows he's
guine to be hung. I can't see.”

“Never mind: it is my desire,—is not that enough?
I choose it,—it is my notion. I will pay you for my
notion. Do what I have said,—here are five guineas
more. Go to Miss Berkeley, and tell her what I have
taught you.”

The Half-Breed hesitated, or seemed to hesitate.

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The bright gold glittered in his eye, and he was not
accustomed to withstand temptation. His habit almost
overcame his reflection, and the determined conviction
of his mind; but he resisted the suggestion, and adhered
to his resolve.

“I'd rather not, cappin; I reckon I can't. If you
says now that you wants to kill him, I'll help you,
'cause then I understands you; but to git him out, and
let him run free, jist when there's no need for it, and
when you hates him all over, is too strange to me—I
can't see to the bottom.”

“And you will not do as you have said?” demanded
the other, with some vexation in his tone and countenance.

“Well, now, cappin, why not speak out the plain
thing as it is,” said the Half-Breed, boldly; “don't I
see how 'tis? When you gits him out, you'll put it to
him,—that's what I understands. If it's so, say so, and
I'll go the death for you; but I ain't guine to sarve a
man that won't let me know the business I'm guine
upon. Let me see your hand, and I'll say if I back
you.”

This was bringing the matter home, and Barsfield at
once saw that there was no hope for the aid of the
Half-Breed but in full confidence. He made a merit
of necessity.

“I have only sought to try you. I wished to know
how far you were willing and sagacious enough to serve
me. I am satisfied. You are right. The boy shall not
escape me, though I let him run. You hear me,—can
I now depend on you?”

“It's a bargain, cappin,” and the savage received the
guineas, which were soon put out of sight,—“it's a bargain:
say how, when, and where, and there's no more
fuss.”

They closed hands upon the contract, and Barsfield
now unfolded his designs with more confidence. It was

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arranged that Blonay should carry out the original plan,
so far as to communicating with Janet. Her acquiescence
following, Mellichampe was to be led, at a particular
hour, on a specified night, through a path in which
the myrmidons of the tory were to stand prepared; and
nothing now remained—so Barsfield thought—in the
way of his successful effort at revenge, but to obtain the
ministry of the devoted maiden in promoting the scheme
which was to terminate in the murder of her lover.

Barsfield, in the part prosecution of his design, that
very evening sought a private conference with Janet
Berkeley, which was not denied him.

“What!” exclaimed Rose Duncan, as she heard of
the application and of her cousin's compliance,—“what!
you consent,—you will see him alone? Surely, Janet,
you will not?”

“Why not, Rose?” was the quiet answer.

“Why not!—and you hate him so, Janet?”

“You mistake me, Rose. I fear Mr. Barsfield,—
I dread what he may do; but, believe me, I do not hate
him. I should not fear him even, did I not know that
he hates those whom I love.”

“But, whether you hate or fear, why should you see
him? What can he seek you for but to make his sickening
protestations and professions over and over again?
and I don't see that civility requires that you should
hear him over and over again, upon such a subject,
whenever he takes it into his head to address you.”

“It will be time enough to declare my aversion,
Rose, when I know that such is his subject. To anticipate
now would be not only premature, but in very
doubtful propriety, and surely in a taste somewhat indelicate.
Such, indeed, can scarcely be the subject on
which he would speak with me, for I have already answered
him so decisively that he must know it to be
idle.”

“Ah, but these men never take an answer: they are

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pertinacious to the last degree; and they all assume,
with a monstrous self-complaisance, that a woman does
not mean `no' when she says it. Be assured Barsfield
will have little else to say. His speech will be all
about hearts and darts, and hopes and fears, and all
such silly stuff as your sentimentalists deal in. He will
tell you about Kaddipah, and promise to make you its
queen, and you will tire to death of the struggles of the
great bear in an element so foreign to his nature as
that of love.”

And, while she spoke, the lively girl put herself in
posture, and adopted the grin and the grimace, the desperate
action and affected enthusiasm, which might be
supposed to belong to the address of Barsfield in the
part of a lover. Janet smiled sorrowfully as she replied—

“Ah, Rose, I would the matter upon which Barsfield
seeks me were not more serious than your thoughts
assume it to be. But I cannot think with you. I am
troubled with a presentiment of evil; I fear me that
some new mischief is designed.”

“Oh, you are always anticipating evil; you are always
on the look-out for clouds and storm.”

“I do not shrink from them, Rose, when they come,”
said the other, gently.

“No, no! you are brave enough: would I were half
so valiant, sweet cousin of mine! But, Janet, if you
dread that Barsfield has some new mischief afoot, that
is another reason why you should not see him. Be
advised, dear Janet, and do not go.”

“I must, Rose, and I will, for that very reason. I
will look the danger in the face; I will not blind myself
to its coming. No! let the bolt be shot—let the
wo come—let the worst happen, rather than that I
should for ever dream, and for ever dread, the worst.
Suffering is one part of life—it may be the greatest part
of mine. I must not shrink from what I was designed

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to meet; and God give me strength to meet it as I
should, and cheer me to bear up against it with a calm
fortitude. I feel that this man is the bringer of evil
tidings: I am impressed with a fear which almost persuades
me to refuse him this meeting. But, as I know
this feeling to be a fear, and at variance with my duty
to myself not less than to Mellichampe, I will not refuse
him. I will go; I will hear what he would say.”

“And here I must remain, stuck up like a painted
image, to listen to Lieutenant Clayton's rose-water compliments.
The man is so bandboxy—so excruciatingly
tidy and trim in every thing he says—so measured and
musical—and laughs with such continual desperation—
that he sickens me to death to entertain him.”

“Yet you do entertain him, Rose?”

“How can I help it? You will not; and the man
looks as if he came for an entertainment.”

“And you never disappoint him, Rose.”

“'Twould be too cruel that, Janet, for you neither
look nor say any thing towards it. You might as well
be the old Dutch Venus, stuck up in the corner, whose
fat cheeks and small eyes used to give your grandfather
such an extensive subject for eulogy. You leave all the
task of keeping up the racket, and should not wonder if
I seek, as well as in me lies, to maintain your guests
in good-humour with themselves, at least.”

“And with you. You certainly succeed, Rose, in
both objects. Task or not, you are not displeased with
the labour of entertaining Lieutenant Clayton, if I judge
not very erroneously of your eyes and features generally.
And then your laugh, too, Rose—don't speak of
the lieutenant's—your laugh is, of all laughs, the most
truly natural when you hearken to his good sayings.”

“Janet, you are getting to be quite censorious. I
am shocked at you. Really, you ought to know that, to
entertain a body—if you set out with that intention—

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you are not to allow it to be seen that you are making
an effort. To please others, the first rule is always to
seem pleased yourself.”

“True—you not only seem pleased yourself, but,
Rose, do you know, I really think you are so. You
laugh as—”

“Pshaw, Janet—pshaw!—I laugh at the man, and
not with him.”

“I fear me, now I think of it, Rose, that he has discovered
that. Methinks he laughs much less of late
than ever: he looks very serious at times.”

“Do you really think so, Janet?”

“I do, really.”

“What can be the cause, I wonder?”

“Perhaps he has been ordered to join Cornwallis.
He spoke of some such matter, you remember, but a
week ago.”

“Yes, I remember; and at the time, if you recollect,
Janet, he looked rather grave while stating it,
though he laughed afterward: and yet the laugh did
not seem altogether so natural; there was something
exceedingly constrained and artificial in it.”

“It must be so,” replied Janet, as it were abstractedly.
The momentary humour which had prompted
her to annoy her thoughtless companion had passed
away in the sterner consideration which belonged to her
own difficulties. She turned away to a neighbouring
window, and looked forth upon the grove, and a little
beyond, where, on the edge of the forest, lay the encampment
of Barsfield, a glance at which involuntarily
drove her away from the window. When her eyes were
again turned upon Rose Duncan, she saw that the
usually lighthearted girl was still seated, in unwonted
silence, with her face buried in her hands. The
whole air of the damsel was full of unusual thought and
abstraction, and Janet might have seen that a change had
come over the spirit of her dream also, but that her

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fancy was saddened by the strong and besetting fears
which promised her a new form of trial in the meeting
with the tory.