CHAPTER I.

—“The country is in arms;
There's not a house but shelters stout adherents.”
The Regent, a tragedy.

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More than half a century ago, there stood in Darby,
a small village near Philadelphia, an humble inn, denominated
“The Hive;” which name the house acquired
in consequence of a rude sign, that yielding to every
blast of wind, creaked in front of the building; although
one who was not a connoisseur in painting, might have
mistaken the hive for a hay-cock, and the bees for
partridges, had not the ingenious artist, to prevent all
mistakes of this nature, judiciously painted, in capital
letters, the name of his design, which at once put an
end to the illiberal cavilling of such critics as could
decipher the alphabet.

Alice Grey, the hostess of the Hive, had evidently
been a sufferer by the vicissitudes of fortune; and
every line of her countenance denoted that she had
felt, in all its bitterness, the visitations of sorrow and
disappointment. She had arrived at the village a few
years before, totally destitute, accompanied by her

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daughter, a child at that period apparently twelve years
of age. No one knew whence she came, and on that
subject her lips were most religiously sealed. She
lingered about the town a short time without any definite
object, until several of the more wealthy neighbours,
from motives of compassion, placed her in the
situation in which she then resided, and where she was
enabled to gather sufficient from the weary traveller
and the gossipping politician, to support her little
daughter Miriam and herself, without having the scanty
meal embittered with the conviction that she was indebted
for it to the labour and charity of another. An
unknown had contributed liberally towards the accomplishment
of this object. Alice was about the age
of forty, tall of stature, and of a spare habit, as the
workings of her mind were too unceasing to permit
health to make its appearance. There were still the
traces of former beauty in that wo-worn countenance,
which is spite of her present condition, plainly indicated
the class to which she once belonged. Her features
were regular, of the Italian cast; her eyes large, black,
and piercing, and her forehead high and smooth. Her
hair was still abundant, and glossy as the plumage of
the raven. Her countenance was inflexibly stern. The
only one who possessed the power to relax its severity,
in the slightest degree, was the gentle Miriam. There
was an occasional wildness in her actions, and incoherency
in her conversation, that led the more superstitious
part of the villagers to believe that Alice held
communion with the evil one, while others who examined
her condition more narrowly, were of opinion
that these hallucinations were the result of long mental
suffering.

Miriam was at this time about sixteen; a pretty
black-eyed girl, bearing a strong resemblance to what
her mother must have been at the same age. Her person
was tall and graceful. Her countenance was naturally
sedate, still it possessed sufficient sprightliness

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to dispel, in some degree, the gloom occasioned by her
mother's austerity. She was the core of her mother's
heart, and it is scarcely necessary to surmise that she
was quite as dear to several swains of the village as to
her unhappy mother. Among these, Jurian Hartfield
was secretly the most favoured; we say secretly, for
his passion was unknown to all save the being who had
inspired it, but the happy Jurian was not without a rival
ever ready to assert his own claim to the beauteous
prize.

It was on the evening of the 11th of September, 1777,
that the gossips of Darby were assembled in the tap-room
of the Hive, expressing their sentiments of the
dangers of the times, and searching for philosophy at
the bottom of their cups. They were seated around
the pine table, and Miriam was performing the duty of
an active bar-maid, while her stricken mother, with her
face bent to her lap, unconscious of the surrounding
scene, was either dreaming of the past, or endeavouring
to penetrate the darkness of the future.

“Miriam, brave lass, my can wants replenishing,”
cried a short thick-set man, in a pompous tone, with a
weather-beaten countenance, and clad as if he had stolen
his wardrobe from a gibbet. He had a coarse rifle
shirt about him, and his legs were kept in durance by a
huge pair of spatterdashes, which extended above the
knee, and gratified the vanity of the wearer, who
contemplated their remarkable dimensions with evident
satisfaction. One side of his hat was completely covered
with a cockade, composed of white linen, which
added considerably to the military appearance of the
soldier, while upon the spatterdash of his left leg, reposed
his well-tempered Andrew Ferrara, as if satiated
with blood and weary of the toils of battle. This slumbering
weapon was of astonishing longitude, and of
such a polish that the owner did not apprehend its being
tarnished either by the dews of the night, or the
blood of its numberless victims. A broken pipe was

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stuck in the mouth of this self-important personage,
from which ascended volumes of execrable smoke, and
enveloped the rafters above him.

“Miriam, fill my mug again,” he cried a second time,
as no attention had been paid to the first summons.

“Out upon you, corporal Drone,” exclaimed one of
the company. “We might have expected better things
from a soldier of your appearance than to call a pretty
girl to wait upon him,”—saying which, he pointed in
ridicule at the tattered apparel of the son of Mars, who,
whatever might have been his merit in the essential
part, it must be acknowledged did not possess a large
share of the commanding appearance of his god-like
prototype.

“My rifle shirt is ragged, and the night is a cold and
dreary one; so child, fill up my can again.” The corporal
was one of that numerous class who never lose
any thing for the want of perseverance. As Miriam
approached to obey the summons, a countryman, with
a ruddy, open countenance, and of colossal stature, interfered,
and vociferated with an oath, that she should
not; if the corporal were so devoid of gallantry, he
himself would fulfil the office of tapster. “As you
please,” retorted the other gravely, at the same time
regaling his nostrils with an armoatic stream of tobacco
smoke—“As you please; so that I mend my draught,
I care not who performs the office of Ganymede. But
drink I must, for this is the night of all others on which
I would indulge in potations.”

“And why on this night in particular? I imagined
all nights were the same to you, corporal.”

“Why, as to that, it must be a bad occasion, indeed,
that affords no excuse for drinking. But on this day,
a battle has been fought, and patriot blood has been
shed. I would drink to the brave. Hard, hard fate!
why was I absent at such a time!”

“Because you considered it safer than being

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present,” cooly replied the man who had taken the mug
from Miriam, and which he still held in his hand.

“Another such insinuation, master Jones, and I
cleave thee from the chine, and make mincement of
thee for a dog's festival.” Jones smiled at the threat
of the corporal, and the gentle voice of Miriam was
heard inquiring of the latter, whether he had seen Jurian
during the day.

“It is not an hour since I met him beyond the
creek,” was the reply. “Was he not here this afternoon?”

“It is nearly a week since he was here,” replied
Miriam, slightly blushing. “Do you know whether
he has heard how captain Swain fared in this day's
conflict?”

“The old soldier escaped unharmed, and did his
duty like a man.”

“That he will always do. Praised be Heaven, my
mother's benefactor is still alive?”

“The old hot-headed fool had better attend to his
business of fattening cattle instead of marching about
the country in a bad cause,” exclaimed Jones.

“Don't speak against the cause,” said the corporal,
cocking his arms akimbo, and throwing as much fierceness
into his countenance as nature would admit—
“Don't speak against the cause, for it is as honest a
cause as ever sword was drawn in.”

“If you think so,” replied Jones, “why does that
terrible weapon of yours remain slumbering in its
scabbard? and why do you figure in a tap-room, instead
of upon the banks of the Brandywine, where you
would not be at a loss for employment at present?”

The corporal touched the basket-hilt of his sword,
bit his under lip and frowned; and after making an
ugly face at the other, which was intended to convey
a proper sense of the contempt his corporalship felt at
the moment, he sneeringly said—

“Jones! you are as arrant a tory as old 'squire

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Morton, your employer; and I would cheerfully fight
without rations for a week to see you strung up together:—
or if”—he paused and half drew his sword,
which action was accompanied by an alarming frown.—
“But no! you are unworthy of a brave man's anger.”—
He sheathed his sword, threw one leg across the other,
leaned back, and smoked his pipe most vigorously.

“No more, thou mighty man of war,” exclaimed
Jones, “you know my pacific disposition, and should
not trample on it.”

“Enough,” said the corporal gravely, at the same
time relaxing, in some degree, the severity of his brow:
“Enough—I am pacified.”

One of the company, a diminutive old man, dressed
in quaker apparel, with a fox-like countenance, a complexion
resembling scorched parchment, and a pair of
spindle shanks not unlike drumsticks, who had for
some time been contemplating, in silence, the striking
and manly countenance of Jones, now approached
him, and said in a hesitating voice as shrill as the
whistle of a November wind through a keyhole—

“Friend, unless I greatly mistake, this is not the
first time we have met.”

“Likely, likely,” replied the other carelessly, at the
same time glancing his large gray eyes at the person
who accosted him. The man involuntarily shrunk
from his gaze.

“Was thee not last Second day, about sundown, on
the Lancaster road?” continued the man, retreating a
step.

“Quite likely,” said Jones, “as I go to the city
every day or two to buy marketing and groceries for
the 'squire's family. But why do you ask all these
questions of me, neighbour?”

“Supposing thee had been there,” replied the man,
taking another step backwards, and fixing his small
twinkling eyes intently upon the countenance of the
other, “thee might know something of an outrageous

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robbery committed on the person of Ephraim Horn,
a farmer, who had sold his crop, and was returning
home from the city.”

“Why, darn it,” said Jones, “it runs in my head I
heard a report of the kind. Let me think:—Corporal,
didn't you say something to me about the matter?”

“You are right,” said the corporal. “I told you
that the person robbed had offered a reward of five
pounds, hard money, for the apprehension of Paul
Gordon, which you may see posted there against the
wainscot; and those five pounds will be in my shotpouch
before ten days pass away, or I will eat the hilt
of this weapon”—saying which, he raised his eyes to
the smoky rafters, which were ornamented with pig
faces and other meat drying, and assumed a countenance
that would have done credit to the sternest warrior
that frowned on the siege of Troy.

“And I will pay it on the nail,” said Ephraim,
“should it take the last shilling I have in the world.”

“Then, likely, you are the man that was robbed,”
said Jones, with a vacant stare.

“I am,” replied the other, “and I reckon thee knew
as much from the first.”

“Anan!” ejaculated Jones, dropping his lower jaw,
and looking the man full in the face—“Wasn't it Paul
Gordon, the highwayman, robbed you?”

“Paul Gordon, or Paul Devil,” squeaked the disciple
of Penn, waxing warm, “you look as much alike as
two peas.”

“For certain you don't take Jones, the ploughman,
for Gordon, the highwayman,” replied the other.

“Ho! ho! ho!” roared the corporal, “you might
as well be taken for the Dey of Algiers.” Several
others, who were acquainted with the accused, joined
with the corporal in laughing at the absurd accusation.

“What is it you laugh at?” inquired Ephraim.
“Never trust my eyes, if he is not the very picture of
the robber.”

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“As much like him as chalk is like cheese,” added
the corporal, in a decided tone.

“Mayhap thee is acquainted with Paul Gordon,”
said Ephraim, addressing the corporal.

“You may say that,” replied the other, “and he is
acquainted with corporal Drone too. He is a man
much about my make, remarkably captivating in his
appearance.”

“Now, darn it,” exclaimed the Quaker, “he is the
illest looking dog I ever clapped my eyes upon.”

“Polite in his address,” continued the corporal—
“daring as a lion—possessing the true mettle of a
soldier—but, withal, far inferior to me at the game of
broad-sword.”

As he concluded, he drew his sword, flourished it
over his head, and made a tierce at Jones, who ran
alarmed into a corner of the room, where he crouched
and extended his hands for protection. Drone made
several passes at the trembling countryman, who exclaimed—

“Lord, corporal, mind what you are doing; you are
so furious that you will be after hurting one.”

Drone after amusing himself and the company for
some time in this manner, sheathed his rusty weapon
with an air of importance, saying—

“Fear not, poor fellow. This well-tried blade
drinks richer and nobler beverage than courses through
your veins;” and then turning to Jones's accuser, said,
“Is that the man who robbed you?”

“No!” exclaimed Ephraim, somewhat abashed, and
scratching his head; “I am a non-combatant, it is
true; but I was never robbed by the like of him.”

Jones came sullenly from the corner, whither he
had fled before the sword of the blustering corporal,
and, approaching his accuser, muttered—

“Though the times are troubled, there is such a
thing still as law in the land, and some folks shall learn

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that, though a man be poor, he is not to lose his character
for nothing.”

Ephraim made an awkward apology, while Jones
continued muttering—“I am the best ploughman in
these parts, as 'squire Morton will testify, and all my
neighbours will give me as good a character for honesty
and civility, as any man of my calling need as for;
but to be torn up root and branch in this manner, and
all for nothing, is a notch beyond my learning; but I
reckon there are those who will be able to understand it.”

Ephraim perceiving the charge to assume an unfavourable
aspect, made every concession to appease the
dogged resentment of Jones, who finally, though
reluctantly, suffered himself to be reconciled to the
insult; and the Quaker, in order to drown all latent
animosity, proposed to drink with the countryman, considering
the custom to have the same influence among
the christians, as that of eating salt among the Arabs.
The proposition was no sooner made than complied
with, and good-humour was again restored to the company.

“This is all very well,” cried the corporal; “but
my mug wants replenishing.” Miriam again advanced
to fulfil her duty, but Jones stepped before her, hastily
picked up the mug, and entered the tap-room. He
returned in a few moments, and replacing it before
Drone, exclaimed—

“Here, old thirsty-soul, moisten that weather-beaten
carcass of yours, and I will pledge you in a draught
much better suited to my palate.”—Saying which, he
threw his arms around the waist of the bar-maid, and
as she resisted his rudeness, a struggle ensued.

Alice was awakened from her dreaming by the noise
occasioned by the struggle between her daughter and
her rustic admirer. She arose from the low seat, where
she had remained in silence, during the foregoing scene.
A flash of animation passed over her countenance, as
she threw back from her high pale forehead the black

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hair that hung in confusion over it. Every eye was
fixed upon her tall attenuated figure; she paused for a
moment, and then hastily gliding towards Jones, fixed
her long fingers in the collar of his shirt, and holding
him at arms-length, exclaimed—

“Insolent craven, hast thou the heart to insult the
widow's defenceless child?” with which, she dashed
him from her, and Jones retired to the extremity of the
room, considerably abashed at the unfavourable result
of the amatory adventure. “The lip of woman,” continued
Alice, “should be kept as sacred as the holy altar,
for she who idly prostitutes its purity, trifles with her
soul's eternal worth.” As she concluded, an involuntary
shudder agitated her slender frame, and she immediately
afterwards resumed her seat by the fire-side.
It was now growing late; Ephraim paid his score and
left the inn. He mounted his horse, and trotted off at
a round gait toward his residence, which stood north of
the Lancaster road about ten miles from Philadelphia.

As Ephraim left the inn, the trampling of a horse
was heard approaching, which was immediately succeeded
by a knocking at the door, which on being
opened, a man indistinctly seen through the darkness
of the night, mounted on a spirited black horse, and
whose dress was concealed by a long blue surtout, inquired
the way to 'squire Morton's residence.

“Hellward you'll find the tory,” shouted the corporal.
Jones approached and demanded of the stranger
whether he was alone, who returned answer that he
was.

“Friend or foe, spy or open enemy, let him answer
that,” growled forth Drone.

“I am a benighted traveller,” returned the stranger,
“and ask to be directed to 'squire Morton's; will any
one oblige me by complying with my request?”

“Not I,” cried Drone, “if you are a friend I could
not find it in my heart to do you such an injury; if an
enemy, you are doubtless going to the devil fast enough

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without that old tory's assistance; but here is a redhaired
fellow of a different creed, who would guide you
to the gallows for a guinea.”—Jones now offered his
services, remarking that he was in Mr. Morton's employ,
and intended returning home in a few moments;
he then left the inn, walking beside the stranger's horse,
but before they had proceeded a great distance, their
conversation proved they were not entire strangers to
each other. They entered the lane leading to Mr.
Morton's mansion, which stood at a short distance from
the main road, and as they approached the house, a
figure was indistinctly seen, leisurely crossing the field
towards the village.

“Who is that?” inquired the stranger.

“Look again, sir, and you will be able to answer
the question.”

The stranger checked his horse and fixed his eyes
upon the figure grandually receding, and then exclaimed—

“That reptile Jurian! Is it not?”

“Right: I knew you would hit the mark,” said Jones
coolly.

“Presumptuous rebel! By heavens, this very instant—”
He turned his horse towards the figure.
Jones checked him, and said—

“Is a very unfit one for you to expose yourself. It
would not be altogether agreeable that he should know
that you are in the neighbourhood at present, for in
that case you might possibly make a longer visit than
you originally designed.”

With this remark, he again turned the head of the
horse towards the house; the stranger did not oppose
it, but moved on, and in a few moments alighted at the
door and entered.

CHAPTER II.

Your patience, sir, while briefly I recount
Some passages of former times, that throw
A glaring light upon the events that follow.
The Sultan.

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Captain Swain, as his name had been modernised,
was a descendant of the celebrated Seven Schute, lord of
Passaiung, who in the Dutch war, was obliged to yield
to the conqueror Stuyvesant, familiarly called woodenlegged
Peter. Captain Swain prided himself not a little
upon his ancestry; he was familiar with the history
of the Swedish settlements on the Delaware, for he
considered it the only history worth the trouble of becoming
acquainted with, and the ten years siege of
Troy, the wars of Rome and Carthage, and the contention
between the red and white roses of England,
were not to be mentioned on the same day with the appalling
difficulties encountered by his valiant ancestors
in making good their settlement on the banks of the
Delaware.

Captain Swain, at the commencement of the troubles
in the colonies, was about fifty years of age, of short
athletic person, and inclined to become fat. His countenance
was strongly characteristic of good-humour
and benevolence, while his conduct bore ample testimony
as to the sincerity of his visage. Inheriting a
considerable share of military spirit from honest Sven

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Schute, who commanded under governor Risingh the
Fort of the Holy Trinity, our worthy raised a company
of yeomen, from the vicinity of Darby, to assist in the
defence of their native rights.

Jurian Hartfield, mentioned in the preceding chapter,
had, while yet an infant, been placed under the
protecting care of captain Swain, and as his wife had
at that time been deprived by death of a child of the
same age, she readily received the helpless babe, and
resolved to cherish it. The mystery concerning the
birth of the child had not yet been divulged, and as he
advanced in years, he became sensible of the odium attached
to him on this account. Every scoff of the unthinking
proved a barbed shaft that no skill could extract,
and it remained until it poisoned the very fountain
of thought. The restlessness of his mind was depicted
in his strongly marked countenance, upon which there
hung a settled gloom. There was decision of character
in every line of his finished face. It indicated a
mind that disdaining the happy mean, would seek the
extremes of virtue or of vice. There was unwavering
determination in his piercing black eyes, which were
overshadowed by bushy brows. His hair was black
and glossy as the plume of the raven, and hung down
in Absalom ringlets over his shoulders. His mouth
was voluptuous, and his chin broad, and indicative of
firmness. His person was rather beneath the common size, but light and graceful, combining strength and activity.

Captain Swain having amassed considerable property
by his business as a grazier, determined to bestow
such an education upon Jurian as would lay the foundation
of future eminence, and accordingly he was
placed in the academy at Philadelphia. Here he contracted
an intimacy with Edward Morton, a classmate,
of the same age, which gradually ripened into friendship,
though the dispositions of the young men were
the antipodes of each other. Jurian's mind was as the

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deep river that moves silently and darkly through the wilderness,
but that of Morton as the shallow brook that ripples
through the flowery mead, and dances in the sunshine.
These young men were seldom separated;
throughout the week they pursued their studies together,
and as their parents resided within a short distance
of each other, even during vacation there was no
interruption to their social intercourse. While at the
academy, every jest, or look, that Jurian could not
trace to an obvious cause, he imagined was occasioned
by his presence. He became a solitary being, and seldom
opened his lips but to Morton, whom he considered
the only one who felt an interest in his happiness.
At the age of eighteen he returned to the house of his
benefactor, with the reputation of a ripe scholar, and as
he resided but a short distance from Mr. Morton's residence,
he visited his friend frequently, and soon obtained
a footing of intimacy in that family that did not
exist between the elder branches.

Mr. Morton was of English descent; his connexions
were wealthy, and some of them were titled in the mother
country. His family pride was great; he was ostentatious
of his pedigree, and he experienced tenfold
more delight in contemplating the rough escutcheon on
the side of his old lumbering chariot, than the most enthusiastic
connoisseur of painting could possibly feel in
beholding the united splendour of the Italian artists.
Though an American by birth, he had been educated
in England; and as he became acquainted with that
nation at a time when his elastic spirits were ripe for
enjoyment, and having the means of gratifying every
idle pleasure, be embarked for his native shores with
feelings that might be compared to those of a convict
on his voyage to Botany Bay.

From his predilection for the mother country, he
viewed as open and unjustifiable rebellion the resistance
of the colonies against tyranny and oppression, and
those who were the most active in promoting the cause,

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as traitors to their king, and deserving of punishment
upon the scaffold. Having in the early part of his life
served in the army, he became partial to the scarlet
colour, which prejudice was not only evidence in his apparel,
but also in his austere countenance, which was
illuminated by the libation of many pipes of good old
Madeira. The effects of this mode of living were not
confined to his countenance, for he was subject to repeated
attacks of the gout, and while labouring under
this irritating malady, it was impossible for him to restrain
the violence of his fretful disposition. His family
consisted of his two children—Edward already
mentioned, and Agatha his sister; and Miss Rebecca
Buckley, a maiden sister of Mrs. Morton, whose dislike
to matrimony had gradually changed into inveterate
aversion as she approached the age of fifty. Mr. Morton's
system of domestic government was despotic.
True, Miss Rebecca would occasionally venture to
rebel against the arbitrary rule, while he was in perfect
health, and stirring about his farm; but as soon as he
was seated in his gouty chair, with his swathed foot
reposing on his scarlet velvet cushion, they were all
as obedient, and beheld him with as much terror, as the
submissive Turks do an absolute Bashaw with three
tails.

In consequence of the unconquerable pride of the
'squire, as he was commonly called, and as he viewed his
republican neighbours as beings of an inferior order, his
house was seldom visited, except upon business, by
those residing in the vicinity. Mrs. Swain had at one
time endeavoured to cultivate an intimacy, but found
the reception too cold and stately for the warm and
simple feelings of her heart, and accordingly desisted
from the undertaking, considering it utterly hopeless.
Jurian, as he was devoted to study, had acquired a
share of intelligence uncommon for a youth of his age,
which son recommended him to the notice of Mr.
Morton, who was astonished at finding such extensive

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cultivation of talent in a plebeian and a base-born child.
The old man would occasionally condescend to converse
with him on the subject of literature, and finding
his judgment sound and discriminative, and his memory
remarkably tenacious of the best passages of his favourite
poets, in despite of prejudice, our patrician condescended
to feel some interest in his conversation.

Agatha, from the daily habit of intercourse for many
years with Jurian, experienced a degree of regard for
him which increased as they advanced towards puberty,
and by his solicitude she was induced to believe that
her presence was essential to his happiness. There
was invariably a fervour in his manner towards her, that
could not escape her notice, and produced its effect. She
saw in his character traits which imperatively demanded
respect, and yet at times she fancied she discovered
others that it was impossible for her to reconcile with the
opinion she had entertained. Still towards her he was invariably
the same devoted being. Their intercourse
was without restraint, for in the purity of heart there
was nothing to alarm her at the danger of her situation.
She admired his talents, and frequently had recourse
to them for assistance in her studies. Their days were
frequently spent in the library together, and at evening,
she and her brother would accompany their mutual
friend on his way home. Nor can it be supposed that Jurian,
under these circumstances, could remain insensible
to her beauty and accomplishments. She had been
the object of his love from boyhood, and hope had incessantly
whispered that she must become the partner of his
future destiny. He was aware of the many difficulties he
would have to surmount to accomplish his ambitious
views, but then what obstacle was he not willing to encounter
to realize the glowing picture of coming joy,
that young love and hope had so temptingly portrayed.
Few artists have the faculty to paint the scenes of this
nether world in such glowing colours.

Captain Swain beheld with regret the bias of his

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affections, and strove to wean him from an attachment which,
he feared, must terminate in sorrow. He knew that
the stubborn pride of the 'squire would never condescend
to a connexion with a family in their humble station,
while on the other hand, entertaining a proper
sense of what was due to a lineal descendant of the
lord of Passaiung, he felt indignant at the slight, and
shrunk at the bare idea of entering into a family that
looked upon him as its inferior. He made his feelings
known to Jurian, and represented to him the consequences
that must inevitably attend his misplaced passion,
and concluded with exhorting him to estrange his
heart as soon as practicable, which advice was of course
obeyed in the same manner that it has been since the
days that the blind archer shot at Pyramus and Thisbe
through a chink in a two-foot wall.

The character of Jurian suddenly assumed a new
aspect. Emerging from the gloom in which it had
been enveloped, it appeared in its native vigour. The
shade of melancholy, which in his boyhood had weighed
heavily on him, was not thrown off, but gracefully
worn as a mantle, and imparted such an air of determination,
that ordinary minds shrunk when in his
presence. Agatha perceived the change with wonder
and admiration. Her heart confessed that it had not
known him before, and trembled at the confession, but
knew not wherefore, since his love for her was still the
same, but there was so startling a difference between
the man of real life, and the child of her imagination,
that she could not behold it without deprecating the
consequences. The link that bound her to him was now
firmly rivited. Her feelings with regard to him underwent
an entire revolution, and she trembled as she discovered
the change. She had loved him, but heretofore
her love had been timid, doubtful, and undefined. She
had viewed him as a flower bending beneath the weight
of the storm, and she felt desirous to protect the

[figure description] Page 022.[end figure description]

flower; but now he appeared as the mountain oak,
spreading wide its arms, in defiance of the tempest.

Nearly a year had elapsed since Jurian had returned
from the city to his benefactor's house, which period
was passed in comparative seclusion from the
world. Still his time was not idly spent, but in incessant
and abstruse meditation, which perhaps was worse
than idleness. Possessed of a vigorous and analysing
mind, yet knowing little of the world, he framed theories
that could never be realized, and imbibed opinions
that run counter with the established order of things.
He viewed himself as an isolated being, and reasoned
without taking into view his relative situation with
mankind. He had been ushered into the world with a
stigma as indelible as the mark upon the forehead of
Cain. The means used by his allwise Creator, had
been scoffed at and stigmatized by the immaculate institutions
of man. By those institutions he was pronounced
degraded when he first breathed, and a life
the most exemplary, so far from obliterating the remembrance
of his inherent shame, would only tend to
emblazon it. Man had sat in judgment on the act of
his God, and had arrogantly pronounced that it was not
good. He felt this truth in all its force, and as he could
not enter upon the social compact upon equal terms
with the rest, he saw no reason why that compact
should exact from him equal sacrifices. So far from
having been a blessing, it would prove a lasting curse,
then why should he contribute to the support of institutions,
which had embittered the very fountain of his
existence, on account of the aberration of others and
the will of the Most High?

He now perceived the necessity of embracing some
pursuit that would enable him to cope with the world.
The law at that period was the highway to preferment,
and from his long habit of reflection and patient study,
he was led to make choice of this as his future profession.
He accordingly made known his wishes to

[figure description] Page 023.[end figure description]

captain Swain, who rejoiced at the prospect of his entering
upon the world, where he believed him every way qualified
to shine, and forthwith made the necessary preparations
for him to pursue his studies in Philadelphia.
Jurian removed to the city, and for six months was liberally
supplied with funds by his generous benefactor,
when on presenting him with a sum, he declined receiving
it.

“How is this,” exclaimed the old grazier, “why do
you not take the money, my son?”

“I have lived long enough on your bounty, sir, and
it is now time that I should try the strength of my
wings,” was the reply.

“It will be time enough for that when you have completed
your studies, boy; so take the money.”

“Excuse me, sir, you have too long undergone privations
for my advancement, and I cannot patiently sit
down with the knowledge of this fact. It must now
terminate. Care has been bestowed upon my education.
The world is before me. I feel myself equal to most
with whom I come in collision, and it is my humour to
fight my way through it.”

“Have a care, or in this same fight, boy, you will
meet with some hard knocks, which may spoil your
humour.”

“I expect them, and am prepared to meet them.”

“But you will take the money?”

“No.”

“Now, by the glorious memory of honest Sven
Schute, but this is wonderful.”

“Strange as it may appear, sir, it is my determination.”

“Zounds, Jurian listen to reason. I have lived
nearly three times as long in the world as you have,
and though I know less of Virgil and Homer, than I do
of fat cattle and pasture grounds, I tell you there is nothing
to be done in this world without money.”

[figure description] Page 024.[end figure description]

“I know it, sir,” replied the other calmly, “and,
therefore, wish you to keep all you have.”

“Zounds, but how do you mean to fill your purse, if
you refuse my offer?”

“Perhaps, sir, I shall carry none,” he replied, smiling.

“Ha! carry no purse! Even our Swedish ancestors
could not live without money. What do you mean,
boy?”

The young man answered, half jestingly—

“Honest Iago remarks, `thus do I ever make my
fool my purse,' and if every fool be a purse, from my
slight knowledge of the world, I have arrived at the
conclusion that wise men need not encumber their pockets.”
Then taking the other by the hand, he added,
in a serious tone, and his countenance became clouded
as he spoke—“Let us dismiss the subject for the
present. You, no doubt, will hear of my proceedings
hereafter, but whether the world will report favourably
or otherwise, I know not, and it gives me little concern;
but rest assured of this, though you have scattered the
seeds of benevolence on what may be termed an unproductive
soil, yet while I live, you shall never reap the
harvest of ingratitude.”

“Well am I assured, my son, that no weed of that
rank growth will ever take root in your bosom.”

The old man pressed him affectionately by the hand,
and they parted. Jurian returned to the city; his
passion for study had in a measure subsided, and his
dislike of the world had lost somewhat of its austerity.
He mingled more freely in society, and by means of
his polished manners, intelligence, and impressive demeanor,
he became conspicuous and generally known.
His society was courted, and he was looked upon as a
young man of uncommon promise; but by no means
exempt from the follies to which youth is addicted. In
him, however, they went farther, and assumed the complexion
of vices. He was extravagant, and it was a

[figure description] Page 025.[end figure description]

mystery how he acquired the means of supporting
the scenes of dissipation in which he indulged. He
betrayed great quickness in attaining a knowledge of
most games; he was fond of play, but then, it was said,
he played merely for pleasure, and not for the purpose
of gambling. Rumour spoke mysteriously and darkly
concerning him. There was nothing definite; all was
in obscurity, and he was pronounced by the grey-headed
to be a dangerous man; but why or wherefore they
knew not. Jurian felt that the eye of suspicion was on
him, but his was not a mind to quail at its glance. He
moved on in his course, and paid no regard to the hum
of those who surrounded him. He had already marked
out for himself a line of conduct, and no slight obstacle
could cause him to deviate; his mind had been
dispassionately made up, and it was not to be biassed
by the opinions of others.

Such was the state of affairs at the commencement
of the dissensions between the colonies and the mother
country, and captain Swain had no sooner joined the
continental forces, than 'squire Morton, in the pride of
royalty, viewed him and his whole race as traitors to
their king, and in the violence of his antipathy he was
not very choice in the epithets he bestowed upon the
continental soldiers, and Swain among the rest. He
daily became more reserved towards Jurian, and when
he discovered, what he was pleased to style, the presumptuous
partiality of the boy for his daughter, his
reserve increased to rudeness, and finally he forbad a
continuance of his visits. The intimacy which had continued
for years was thus abruptly broken off, and the
meetings which subsequently took place between the
lovers were secret and by stealth.

CHAPTER III. Frisco.

Who knocks?

[figure description] Page 026.[end figure description]

At this period there was a slight wooden bridge over
Darby creek, instead of the substantial stone one that
now occupies its place, and on the night that our narrative
commences, the villagers were kept in a continued
state of alarm, occasioned by the troopers passing and
repassing. Corporal Drone, who was ever ready to
do a good turn, where there was a prospect of being
repaid tenfold, after quitting the Hive, had repaired to
assist Mrs. Swain in packing away and burying her
valuables, to protect them from depredators, in case it
should be necessary to remove to the city. Jurian also
assisted in this precautionary step, and towards midnight
his fostermother retired, leaving our hero and
the corporal to give the alarm should the enemy approach,
not knowing at what hour the British troops,
flushed with victory, might direct their march towards
the metropolis.

Two companions were perhaps never more ill-assorted
for a night-watch than Jurian and the corporal. The
latter, who held himself in high estimation, and had
arrived at the satisfactory conclusion, that man is still

[figure description] Page 027.[end figure description]

no more than man, though his mind be highly cultivated,
and his coat of the finest texture, assayed repeatedly to
draw his companion into conversation, but the attempt
was fruitless. The mind of Jurian was employed upon
higher matters than the corporal, upon whom he condescended
to bestow an occasional vacant look or a monosyllable
at most. Drone at length became tired,
lighted his pipe, and as volumes of smoke encircled his
head, he was soon in that state which nearly constitutes
the mortal career of the mass of mankind—a total absence
of mental action, even while the physical powers
retain their functions unrelaxed.

In the midst of their dreamings, a horse was heard
crossing the bridge at full speed, and approaching the
house, which was immediately succeeded by a violent
knocking at the door, and a voice demanding admittance.
The corporal started up, and drawing his sword,
approached the door.

“Who are you,” he cried, “who disturb us at this
unseasonable hour?”

“Open the door, you hound, and let me in.”

“Nay, answer me, or we parley with a two inch plank
between us. If you are satisfied with your side of the
house, I am with mine, so good night to you.”

“Curse your hospitality! Open the door—I am
M`Crea.”

The door was unbarred, when a man of about fifty
years of age entered. He was dressed in a shabby
suit of regimentals, with an old three-cornered hat,
mounted upon the top of a foxy wig, which had a singularly
comical effect when contrasted with a sedate
countenance, strongly marked, care-worn, and indicative
of intense thought. He had a rapier by his side,
which, like that of Hudibras, had eaten its way through
the end of the scabbard, and his feet, which were cased
in a long pair of horseman-boots, evinced a similar token
of their impatience. Still there were the remains
of former beauty in that austere countenance, nor was

[figure description] Page 028.[end figure description]

he so far disfigured by his outre apparel, but that the
graceful movements of a polished man were discernible.

“What, doctor, is it you?” exclaimed Drone, raising
his lamp to the stranger's face. “Why are you from
Brandywine at such a time as this, sir?”

“Out of pure patriotism, for if some unlucky bullet
had brought me my quietus, half the army, you know,
must inevitably perish for want of my assistance, so I
reluctantly forced myself from the field of battle.”

“Humph!” muttered Drone, “he is disposed to
serve his country much after my fashion.”

“This room,” continued M`Crea, addressing Jurian,”
“looks rather desolate, compared to its appearance
when I last beheld it.”

“True, sir, the furniture has been stowed away.”

“Talking of my last visit;—your worthy father and
myself became as merry on that occasion as Bacchus,
Silenus, and their crew, when they entered the city of—
no matter for the name of the city. But, unless
my memory fails me, we did not more than half finish
the last bottle. I have had a weary race of it, boy,
from the field, without stopping at a single baiting
place. Old Pegasus flew like his namesake, with Homer
on his back. He is in a foam, and I am as dry as
a cartouche-box. It is time to replenish the radical
moisture, or this human machine will soon become disorganized.”

Every man has his hobby, and surgeon M`Crea
rode his as unmercifully as any philosopher since the
days of Paracelsus. Being something of a chemist, and
having a taste for literature, and tone of thinking of the
darker ages, he was not an absolute disbeliever in the
existence of the philosopher's stone, but as it was not
exactly in his line, he had not made many experiments
in order to its discovery. He contended that as every
thing in nature is created by combination, man would
be unable to maintain his reason before the omnipotence

[figure description] Page 029.[end figure description]

of chemistry, if it were allowed him to discover the just
proportion of the different elements required to the success
of his experiments. The creations and annihilalations
he averred would be terrific in the extreme.
Our philosopher had for many years been studying to
arrive at the arcanum by which he would be enabled to
live forever, which he contended to be practicable by
admitting just such proportions of the various elements
into our systems as would mutually counteract any
injurious tendency that too great a proportion of one
might have upon the numberless organs necessary to
animal life. The philosopher, as he filled a cup, remarked
to Jurian—

“The human system is nothing more than a mechanical
machine, one part depending upon another; and
as long as each part be kept in repair the machine will
continue in motion—even to the end of time. The
only difficulty that presents itself is to keep the several
parts in repair, and this difficulty, I think, may easily be
surmounted by strict observance that the proper proportions
of solids and fluids, and conflicting gasses, be
admitted into the system. To the neglect of this all
important point, may the unreasonable brevity of human
life be attributed.”

“Still it is long enough for human purposes,” said
Jurian.

“Though i do not clearly understand his philosophy,”
said the corporal, “I must say, I never heard a
better excuse for drinking.” Saying which, he finished
the contents of the bottle.

“What news do you bring from the army, sir?”

“Melancholy. Our loss is a thousand at least, good
men and true. I spent the whole morning in plastering
up flesh wounds and extracting bullets. A sad vocation,
boy! Poor souls, every groan went to my heart. But,
mark me, and I will describe the order of battle to
you.” Saying which, he poured a few drops of liquor
upon the table, and dipping his finger into it, began to

[figure description] Page 030.[end figure description]

describe the position of the armies:—“Here, sir, runs
the Brandywine—but we will make it a little stronger
stream. Now, sir, here are the heights on the east side
of the creek, where we were encamped, in order to
command the fording place. Here is the opposite
height, where general Maxwell was posted with about
one thousand light troops, who last night threw up a
slight breastwork, with the limbs of trees. By day-break
this morning we observed the enemy advancing
in two columns”—

“Never mind, sir, the order of the battalia; I take
but little interest in such matters, and you bid fair to be
exceedingly minute, though I dare swear you lay concealed
in a baggage-wagon during the whole engagement.”

“Had you lived in the days of ancient Rome,” replied
the surgeon, “they would have sent you to Delphos.”

“I am right, then?”

“Half right; but that is more than any of the
soothsayers of olden times. I was concealed in the
place you mention, which will account for the accuracy
of my description. A cool spectator, you know, will
see more of the game than one who plays, but I regret
to say, I was not lying perdu during the whole engagement.
At an early part of the day, I had the folly
to attend my corps to the field; you see the consequences.
An uncivil bullet came close to my ribs, and
has nearly destroyed the only coat that my doctorship
can boast of. I knew there was more lead where that
came from, but very few more coats where this came
from, so I leisurely marched off in search of a place
of safety, both for my coat and carcass.”

Jurian smiled at the recital, knowing the singularity
of the surgeon, and at the same time his unquestioned
courage, while the corporal strutted about the room,
and muttered to himself—

“I am a plain man, with nothing more than a good

[figure description] Page 031.[end figure description]

name to lose, but if corporal Drone had been there,
history would not have had to record that he was found
concealed in a baggage-wagon.”

“You would have found it a snug berth, for all that,
corporal,” replied the surgeon, “and doubtless it would
prove more satisfactory to be reported thus, than among
the slain.” The corporal smiled as if in scorn of the
imputation; the surgeon continued,—“Go house old
Pegasus, who stands by the garden gate. I shall remain
here to-night, and by times in the morning, remove
Mistress Swain to the city, for there is no safety in
this place for a soldier's wife. And mark you, corporal,
give him half a gallon of grain, and twice as much
water—not a drop nor a grain more or less.”

“Why, sir, I think a double mess would not hurt him
in his present condition.”

“Death! you would make him dog's meat in a week,
corporal.”

“Not quite so soon, sir. You forget that he has as
many points as a Swede's fence after a north-easter.
It would take a month at least to make him fit for the
commons.”

“It is all owing to the unscientific mode of foddering
in the army,” replied M`Crea, as the corporal withdrew.
“Now, Jurian, we are alone, I will proceed in
my description of the battle.”

“Really, sir, you might as well recount the affair of
Marathon or Philippi. I have, as you know, but little
taste for military tactics.”

“But your patriotism I imagined would have awakened
a curiosity to learn the events of this day.”

“Sufficient for me, is it to learn the grand result
without troubling myself to glean the minute details.
But as to patriotism; it is a word more generally used
than understood, and the lives of very few of the many
who are held up to us as examples, present a practical
illustration of its meaning.”

“The name of the elder Brutus, alone, will refute
the position you have assumed.”

[figure description] Page 032.[end figure description]

“True, he is often referred to as a character to excite
our admiration and respect, but his claims to that
distinction, it has often struck me, are exceedingly
questionable, and that he is indebted for the halo that
surrounds his name to the talents of the historian, and
the imagination of the reader. Was the sacrifice of
Titus an act of justice, or was it not the object of his
executioner to gild his own name for posterity with the
blood of his dearest son? Did the safety of Rome,
or the justice of the cause, require the blood of this
victim at the altar of liberty? No; he might have
lived without endangering the safety of Rome, and of
this Brutus was fully aware, before the fatal axe had
fallen, and while hundreds were supplicating him for
mercy. If we admire him as an inflexible statesman,
we must condemn him as an unnatural father, and,
indeed, this prominent act of his life is sufficient to
lead us to question whether the assumption of idiocy
had not some foundation in reality. Bring forth another
model, for this, clothed in his gory robes, is not for me.”

“I will then ask you, in the language of a popular
poet,” said M`Crea—

“This question of Pierre's,” replied Jurian, “is
usually answered in the affirmative. He is lauded as a
patriot, philosopher, and virtuous man; but at the time
of doing the act that emblazoned his memory, he knew
that he was killing his best friend; nay, believed he
was planting a dagger in the bosom of his own father;
exactly reversing the nature of the crime that has immortalized
the first of the name of Brutus;—father for
son; son for father. Such being the fact, his speck of
patriotism is lost sight of when compared with his unnatural
offence. Though I have never experienced a
father's love, and perhaps the best feelings of my nature
are still slumbering in my bosom, I must beg you to call

[figure description] Page 033.[end figure description]

forth another patriot from the tombs, for this last is no
prototype for me. Murder his own father, and yet
held up as a praiseworthy example to the world! I'll
none of him.” As he referred to his own deserted
condition, his voice assumed a melancholy tone, that
did not escape the notice of M`Crea.

“What think you, then, of Minturnæ's exile?” continued
the surgeon. “From your opposition to received
opinions, doubtless he was a patriot to your own
mind.”

“And so he was. The records of the world present
not a character parallel with that of old Marius. True,
those who peruse alone Plutarch's prejudiced narrative,
will pronounce him a monster in human shape, without
one redeeming quality, still we find that at one period,
he had his country's good nearest at heart; that the
people have seldom had a more thoroughgoing champion;
oligarchy a more determined foe. And if the
true patriot became a monster and a misanthrope, we
must attribute the change to the ingratitude of Rome,
for he was not such until a price was set upon his head,
and he was hunted by mercenaries through the very
land that his valour had saved from barbarous invasion.”

“So much for Marius; what of Catiline?”

“I am half inclined to believe the assertion of old
Renault,” replied Jurian, smiling, “that he was a gallant
man, `though story wrong his fame.”'

“And upon the same principle,” said the surgeon,
“doubtless you will maintain that `Collatine's fair love,
Lucrece the chaste,' has built her reputation upon a
very problematical basis?”

“And so she has. Although her chastity has become
a proverb, yet it must be admitted she sacrificed
the substance for the shadow, and preferred actual pollution
to dying unstained, with a charge of pollution attached
to her name. But she may have been an able
polemic in these matters, and supported the doctrine of
free agency, without which there can be neither sin nor
virtue.”

[figure description] Page 034.[end figure description]

“Thy mind has been strangely warped, young man;
however, I do not like you the worse on that account,
for I am not disposed myself to travel altogether in the
beaten track.”

“Few flowers, sir, spring up in the common highway.
Give me the broad field to wander in, where I
may choose my own road.”

The corporal now returned from the stable, and
M`Crea having satisfied himself that his instructions
had been carefully followed, rested his head upon the
table, and being overcome with fatigue, soon sounded
his deep-toned clarion. Drone, after examining the
bottle, and finding it empty, also prepared himself for
repose in a corner of the room, while Jurian threw
himself in the old captain's arm-chair, and soon was
lost in that doubtful state, between sleeping and waking,
in which the gloom of reality casts a deep shade
over the bright visions of unrestrained imagination.

CHAPTER IV.

The foe is fast approaching, and 'tis time
For women, children, aged, and infirm,
To seek for shelter.
—The Sultan.

[figure description] Page 035.[end figure description]

At day-break the following morning Mrs. Swain descended
the stairs, and was not a little astonished on
discovering the surgeon in the situation just described;
on awakening him, however, he explained the object of
his mission, and represented affairs in such a light that
it was deemed expedient to depart for the city without
loss of time. Accordingly a vehicle was hastily got
ready, in which M`Crea seated the wife of his friend,
and himself beside her, directing the corporal to follow
on the back of old Pegasus, having previously, with his
own hands, administered a morning feed to his favourite
horse. The corporal strenuously protested against exposing
himself to public ridicule by mounting such a
garran, and concluded his expostulation by remarking,
that a seat in the pillory on a holiday would be agreeable
pastime compared to it.

“You speak from actual experience, I presume,”
said M`Crea; “if not, you will doubtless soon be enabled
accurately to draw the line of distinction between
the two positions.”

[figure description] Page 036.[end figure description]

The corporal affected not to apprehend the peculiar
bearing of this remark, and continued to urge his objections
to mounting the horse, for there is no weapon to
which our nature is so vulnerable as ridicule, and it is
not uncommon to see an affectation of pride floating in
a kennel, and to meet with a fellow who would defy a
whipping-post to make him blush, troubled with false
shame. The corporal's scruples, however, were soon
removed by that omnipotent talisman, a bribe; he
mounted old Pegasus, and before the sun was half an
hour high, was seen slowly pacing after the lumbering
vehicle towards the city.

Jurian had promised to follow. The vehicle was
still in sight as he led his horse from the stable, but
before he mounted he perceived a female approaching.
The first glance was sufficient to tell him that it was
little Miriam of the inn, and a change of countenance
indicated that the interview was not of his seeking.
She stood beside him a few moments in silence, and
then, without raising her eyes, said in a low tone,—

“Jurian, you are about to leave me?”

“For a short time only.”

“To you it may appear but a short time, but to
me!—O! Jurian, I have a presentiment that the time
is fast approaching when we shall part forever.”

“What is it that has again created these idle fears?
I thought I had removed them at our last interview.”

“Silenced, but not removed. You go to join the
continental forces; it is so reported.”

“Such is my present intention; but why, dear Miriam,
should that circumstance create an apprehension
that we may meet no more?”

“You will be daily exposed to death.”

“In what situation in life are we not so?”

“True! and but for that, life would indeed be insupportable.
O! that his arrows flew in countless numbers
across my pathway! How blythly would I walk
on without a shield, where they flew thickest!”

[figure description] Page 037.[end figure description]

“You distress me.”

“Pardon me, I meant it not. I would be the last in
the world to occasion your bosom a single pang. I
once imagined myself a source of joy, but since that
dream is past, do not awaken me to the conviction that
I am a source of sorrow and shame alone. That
thought would exceed in poignancy all that I have
heretofore endured, and I trust that it is not in store
for me.”

“Fear not that, Miriam, thou art still a source of
joy to me, dearer if possible than ever.”

He took her hand, and would have pressed her to
his bosom, but she gently repelled him, and fixing her
large black eyes steadily upon his face, replied in a
calm tone—

“I have already said that dream is past, and there is
nothing on earth can again create the delusion. Jurian,
our minds have been cast in the same mould, it is therefore
useless to attempt to deceive me. I can gather
your thoughts more faithfully from the language of your
eyes than from the words that pass your lips.”

“And do they not, dear Miriam, speak of love?”

“They do; of ardent and, perhaps, of unabated
love. But they also betray another passion, before the
fierceness of which your love shines as the glow-worm
at noonday.

“And what is that?”

“A passion, for the gratification of which Lucifer
lost heaven, and thou wouldst do the same—ambition!”

“Surely, dear Miriam, there is sufficient room in
the human heart to cherish both love and ambition.”

“As well might you say, there is ample space upon
a single throne for contending kings. They are passions
that brook no rivalry, and when they come in
collision, there is no temporizing; one must destroy
the other.”

“Do me then the justice to suppose that the

[figure description] Page 038.[end figure description]

boundless love I bear thee will obtain the mastery in the conflict.”

She smiled, if a muscular motion of the lips, indicative
of sorrow alone may be called a smile.

“Duplicity is fruitless; I read thy thoughts as plainly
as if they were in a written book before me. I am
still dear to you, though I have forfeited your esteem.
Even the coldest neglect could not convince me to
the contrary, and yet it avails nought; your dream of
ambition must be fulfilled, though at the price of my
happiness, and perchance of your own.”

“Beloved Miriam, if there is truth in man, I
swear”—

“Hear me yet,” she calmly continued: “I have said
that our minds have been cast in the same mould. The
first hour we met, it seemed to me that we understood
each other by intuition. That our spirits had the faculty
of communication, without resorting to physical
means. I had seen much of the world for one so young,
and experienced but little sympathy for those with whom
I came in collision. This apathy may have been constitutional,
or occasioned by my peculiar lot, which prevented
my being recognised as an equal by those to
whom I felt myself superior. But the first moment we
met, Jurian, I felt as if our spirits had met in another
world, and were familiar and dear to each other. New
thoughts arose, and yet they were not new, for they seemed
rather as reminiscences of nearly forgotten dreams.
Still those faded dreams belonged not to this world,
for in vain I endeavoured to trace them to their source.
The fountain was not to be searched; for until that moment
we had never met, and strange as it may appear,
thy thoughts and thy appearance were to me as familiar
as if we had traversed the universe together.”

“Whither, dear Miriam, tends this unintelligible discourse?”

“I have asked myself a thousand times the cause
of this foreknowledge, but it defied the power of my

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reason to give a satisfactory answer. I have spoken
to you repeatedly on the same subject, and there was
a time when you fondly cherished the idea of unearthly
ties subsisting between us. But since that time is past,
and we must part, it is better that I endeavour to forget
that we were ever bound together by ties created in this,
or in another world.”

“Why talk of parting?”

“Because that hour is near at hand. Our meetings
will henceforth be few and sorrowful—at least to me.
Coming events, 'tis said, cast their shadows before
them—and if this be true, there can be no mistake in
my present feelings. There is but one event could cast
so deep a shade upon my mind—separation from thee.”

“Visionary girl! why will you suffer ideal fears to
render us both wretched?”

“As there is no shadow without a substance, there
is no effect without a cause,” calmly replied Miriam.
“Thy heart will tell thee, when I name Agatha Morton,
whether my fears are idle. Enough! I see it all,
and have long since foretold my destiny. I do not reproach
thee, Jurian. Thy young heart was hers years
before we met, and but for me would have remained
hers undivided. I reproach myself alone—not thee,
not thee.”

Her magnanimity awakened the better feelings of
Jurian's heart, and he exclaimed—

“I am thine—will be thine—wholly thine—my Miriam!”

“And what is there is the poor and degraded Miriam
to gratify the aspirations of thy soul? The pathway of
ambition is too narrow and rugged for love, and I fear
too steep for safety. I may not climb it with thee.”

“Nor I without thee.”

“Not without me! as well might you place a shackle
on the deer, and bid him run. You say you love
me, and I believe you; but mark my words—my corse
would be no more than a straw in your pathway.”

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“Miriam, this is unjust, unfeeling.”

“Neither; for I say it not for the purpose of wounding.
Thy ambition may be termed revenge against the
world. You consider yourself as having been trampled
on, and would gain sufficient strength to trample on
others in your turn. To some there is no cup so sweet
as the cup of revenge!”

“True, Miriam, there is indeed no cup so sweet!”

“And you will quaff it, though happiness be the
price of the indulgence?”

“I shall not be the first, Miriam, who has purchased
it at the same rate. If my happiness were the only
forfeit required, how cheerfully would I lay it down.
You know how bitterly I have endured. I have been
marked, proscribed, by those whom the world pronounced
more fortunate, though I despised them in my
very soul. Those only who have thus endured, can conceive
of how little moment appear all considerations
that may interpose in the attempt to change the tone
of the world, in despite of its illiberal prejudice. True,
in the end, the victory and its trophies are nothing
more than the veering of a weathercock, and the adulation
of those whom we contemn—a glorious consummation!
But even an ignis fatuus, of a dreary night,
may lead the traveller astray, my Miriam.” The tone
of his voice betrayed the bitterness of his feelings.

“And will you madly follow a false light, knowing it
to be such?” He hesitated. “Why do you not
answer me?”

“I blush as I avow it, Miriam, I have kept my eyes
so long fixed upon that solitary light, that I fear to
withdraw them, lest I be enveloped in utter darkness.”

“I long since foretold this hour!” sighed the wretched
girl. “Happy Agatha! who at once secures
the love and crowns the ambition of him who obtains
her hand! Farewell. You are now another's, and
dear as you are to me, I can calmly say farewell!”

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