During Kate's absence, Ellen Evylin wandered over the house like one in a
dream—Dorothea tried her rural system upon her one morning, by dragging
her to see the dairy-maids perform their manual exercise, but it was all labor
in vain. Ellen told her that it required high health and spirits for these things.

“There you are wrong,” said Dorothea, “for it is these that bring health
and spirits—did you ever see me low-spirited?”

“No, indeed, my dear Dorothea, I never did, but remember you are just fifteen;
the next five years to you may contain the sorrows of twenty.”

The little girl laughed and replied, “not unless all the cows take the hollow
horn. Do you think I will?” to young Dandridge, looking on.

“No, I am sure if you ever have the blues,” replied he, “it will sour all the
milk in the dairy.”

Ellen sauntered off alone, leaving the healthful and merry young pair to their
fun and frolic. She had not wandered long on the banks of the little brook at
the foot of the garden, before she discovered Mr. Hall standing opposite to
that gloomy structure, before designated as the scene of the night funeral.
He was standing with his hands locked behind him and his hat drawn with
the corner down over his eyes, and his head bent upon his breast, every now
and then raising it, to look at the tomb or vault, and then sinking it as before.

Ellen walked within a few feet of him, but he heeded her not. She was determined
not to be baffled this time, however, and accordingly took her stand
at a few yards distance, to wait the termination of his colloquy with the dead,
for she could hear him talking in an under tone, and once or twice he raised
his right arm and let it fall listlessly again by his right side. She heard him

[figure description] Page 074.[end figure description]

say, “his last words to me were, we shall meet again! but who could have
thought that it would be thus?”

Ellen coughed, so as to arrest his attention, and preclude the suspicion of
stealing upon him unawares. He turned round quickly and colored to his
ears, but approached her, removing his hat.

He was aware that she sought his presence, and was not a little surprised at
it, and approached her with an inquiring anxious look, as he said—“Can I
render any possible service to Miss Evylin?”

She seemed puzzled how to communicate her errand, but after a considerable
pause replied—“Mr. Hall, it would be useless to attempt to conceal that
I have been for some time seeking this interview.”

“Is it possible!”

His surprise startled her, and she was on the point of retreating at last,
without accomplishing her end, but she mustered up her courage and came
to the charge again. “Yes, I acknowledge that I have sought for it, with a
particular object in view, but before I make it known, permit me to state that
I was in the room last Sunday, when you approached the picture of General
Elliot and apostrophised it, as you were just now doing his tomb.”

Hall started, in still greater surprise, and look confused and rather displeased—
he waited anxiously for her to go on. She continued:

“It was purely accidental, my being in the room, and but for my surprise
and fright, I would have informed you of it. I do not now state these things
to obtain any sort of claim upon your confidence, but purely to explain why I
suppose you capable of throwing some light upon a dark portion of the history
of”—here she stopped short, she did not know how to finish the sentence—
but presently added, “of another.”

She looked up—the change was indeed surprising—every muscle of his
mouth quivered with excitement, as he struggled for an answer, and his eye
told of the most intense interest. They were rivetted upon her face as if he
would search her very soul.

“Of whom?” at length he asked.

“Of Frank Lee.”

He started as if a bullet had pierced his heart.

“Of Frank Lee!” exclaimed he.

“Aye, did you know him?” said she tremblingly anxious for his reply.

“Know him—know him!” he drawled out, “too well, too well.” Still
gazing with a dreamy eye and absent manner upon that beautiful, agitated,
downcast face.

Instantly her countenance rose, and she sprung forward with her hands
clasped together beseechingly, as she asked, “Oh, tell me, does he live?”

“Live—live—does he live? I cannot say.”

“Oh, why do you hesitate?”

This question seemed to rouse him to his full consciousness, and he
answered: “The truth is, Miss Evylin, your inquiries have been so sudden and
unexpected, and let me add, so embarrassing, that I scarcely know what I say.”

“Why are they embarrassing?”

“Because I cannot tell you all I know of him for whom you inquire, without
exposing myself. I have not always been what I now seem.”

“Oh, you need have no fears of me—secrets in which he was involved,
would be sacred with me at least, and you—could you suppose that I would
betray you, if there was anything to betray?”

“No, I hope not, but there is another embarrassing point, which I know
not how to approach without offending you.”

“There need be no offence between two straight forward honest people.”

“Here, then, is a seat in this arbor; you look fatigued and exhausted, let
me fetch you a glass of water from the fountain.”

[figure description] Page 075.[end figure description]

“No, no—no water; I will take the seat, but I could listen forever while
you talk of him.”

“You must know that I was more intimate with him than with any living
being.”

“Oh, tell me all then quickly, and end my suspense.”

“I knew your story when I first entered yonder mansion, as well as I do
now, but poor Frank labored under a grievous mistake as to your feelings
towards him, unless they have lately changed back again into their old
channel.”

“Changed back again! old channel! what can you mean? the course of
that stream has not been half so steady and constant as the current of my
very heart's blood, in his favor.”

“Before God, I believe you, but there was some gross deception practised
upon him some where. Not an hour before he made the desperate and suicidal
attempt to rescue the brave officer who lies buried there, he expressed the
desperate determination to throw his life away. All this, produced by a letter
from this country.”

“From whom?” exclaimed she with vehemence, “from whom I pray you?”

“From his own brother.”

“From Harry Lee! is it possible! And what could he say to produce so
desperate a resolve in Frank?”

“I saw the letter and can speak very positively to that point. He said that
he expected to marry you before his brother's return, that he had already
obtained her father's consent, and only waited to break down the obstacles
which young maidens love to gather round themselves; that they were already
giving way, and would soon totally disappear before the warmth of his suit.
Those were almost his very words.”

“Oh, the base ingrate—there was scarcely a word of truth in the whole—it
is true he asked my Father's consent to pay his addresses to me, but he only
referred him to me for a decision, telling him at the same time that he would
never interfere with my inclinations, so long as the object of my choice was
respectable and intelligent; and as to the obstacle, I was really endeavoring
to teach myself to look upón him in the light of a brother, until finding my
motives entirely misunderstood, I had to put him upon the stately footing
which you have seen, and which much better suits him. Now all being
explained, tell me what became of Frank after the attempted rescue?”

“There was still another thing which made him believe Harry's letter, your
own had ceased for some time, which gave his statements a remarkable
coloring of truth.”

“Of the cause of that I know nothing, except his frequent change of place
after leaving London. I wrote to him regularly.”

“I believe you, most sincerely, and now. I will tell you what little I know
of him. When he first came over, he spent sometime in travelling, and then
entered the University at Edinburgh, as was his first intention, and made great
progress with his studies, and would really have been distinguished as a
scholar, but for an unfortunate circumstance which happened. You will
recollect that Gen. Elliot, the half brother of Gov. Spotswood, came to Edinburgh
about the time alluded to, and his brow being adorned with the laurels
obtained in battle, he was of course a subject of curiosity to all the ardent
youths about the city, and especially to those with any aspirations after military
honors. Frank sought him out, and their mutual relations to Gov. Spotswood,
soon produced an intimacy. Frank was burning with impatience to
join the army, but his guardian's instructions were so positive about the necessity
of finishing his collegiate course, that he resisted his impulses for the
time. The intimacy with the General, however, still continued. The affairs
of this country furnished a never failing theme of mutual interest between

[figure description] Page 076.[end figure description]

them, and it was the intention of the General at some future day to emigrate
hither. Alas! he little supposed that his removal would be after death. I
was in College at the same time, and knew every turn of Frank's mind as
well as if he had been my brother. I was actuated by the same motives, and
longed for the same chance of distinguishing myself.

“Gen. Elliot at length left the city, but we did not return to our studies with
the same ardor after his departure. Our hearts were in the army, and of
course the books were soon thrown aside for the foil, and the broadsword, and
if we read at all, it was works connected with military science.

“The General was absent some months, and when he returned he was a
changed man.

“His fine blithesome and sportive humor had left him, for a settled and
perplexed air. He walked about like one in a dream, and we were not long
in discovering that the character of his associates had entirely changed.
You know that both himself and the Governor were Scotchmen by birth, and
in that country there was a strong predilection for the hereditary claimant of
the crown, running through all ranks of society, more or less. Even with
those who held office and had fought for the existing order of things, their
affections were with the young Chevalier. Besides, it was thought that the
Queen could not live long, and there was little hope entertained even then, of
a direct hereditary descent of the crown. I believe that if the question could
have been impartially put to the Scotch people, without fear or favor weighing
in either scale, whether the young Stewart or a foreigner should reign,
that the former would have obtained seventy-five in every hundred votes.
Gen. Elliot in his then recent excursion into one of the counties of England,
had (most unfortunately, as it turned out.) encountered the young Pretender
himself. He became at once charmed with the youth, and enamored of his
cause. This result was brought about, not a little by the disgust which filled
his breast against the ministry for their treatment of his patron and commander,
the Duke of Marlborough, who was just then beginning to reap that bitter
harvest of ingratitude with which his sovereign repaid his noble achievements.

“Gen: Elliot on his second visit to Edinburgh, had come expressly on business
connected with another contemplated attempt of the Chevalier, and
hence his perplexed air and new associates. His time was now almost wholly
taken up with these men, and a very extensive correspondence. We were
not long in discovering that something very unusual was in progress, and it
was therefore, I suppose, that the General determined to take us into his fatal
confidence. It was with no desire to involve us in difficulties, for his own
sanguine nature scarcely contemplated defeat; but if he had any misgivings
he was not to blame, for he was in some measure compelled to take us into
his confidence, owing to Frank's intimacy with him—brought about by his
position with regard to this country, and Frank and I, you know, were relations,
and very intimate of course. So that we were almost without premeditation,
linked in the treasonable affair. Not that we designed to commit treason,
or contemplated our acts as such; we had been led to believe that we
were espousing the cause of the rightful heir to the crown, and that it was
our opponents who were the traitors. It is success you know that re-baptizes
these things with new names—rebellion is patriotism when successful; and
treason, when defeated.

“The better to blind suspicion, we were still nominally attending our Collegiate
routine, but in reality hatching a most formidable plot against the occupant
of the crown. Gen. Elliot was not a man to go tamely to work in
any thing that he undertook; his whole heart and soul were in the enterprise,
and we were not less heartily engaged.

“He had now taken a house, the better to have complete control over all
those around him, and for the purpose of receiving such young gentlemen as

[figure description] Page 077.[end figure description]

were anxious to join our cause. Such neophytes were generally sounded
first by my cousin or myself, and if found of the right materials, were then
introduced at head-quarters, which the General's house literally was. Over
his household, a young lady presided, who I must say was one of the most
arch little traitors that ever ran away with the hearts of a set of young gentlemen.
My cousin was greatly attracted by her society, as well as myself.”

Poor Ellen, she looked aghast at this, which the young man seeing, he
quickly added, “But-Frank's attentions to this most charming lady, were dictated
by the purest brotherly regard, in which you would have joined him,
heart and hand, had you been there. Her name is Engenia Elliot, a relation
of the General's. She came to this country in the same vessel with me.”

“To this country!” exclaimed Ellen in surprise, “Where is she?”

“Not long ago, she was in that very house.”

“Is it possible? I never heard this before.”

“Did you hear nothing of the three masks?”

“Ah, then you were one of the three, and this young lady was another,
and who was the third?”

“Her father, Humphrey Elliot, Esq., another of those unfortunate gentlemen
like my cousin and myself, who were ruined in fortune and reputation.”

“And where are they now?”

“Gone to a place called Germana, a frontier settlement, I believe. They
have doubtless changed their names ere this, and are happily settled, I hope,
in as peaceful and as happy seclusion as their circumstances will permit.”

“And why have you kept these things from Governor Spotswood, when you
know that he has been making such anxious inquiries for them?”

“Because I pledged myself to Mr. Elliot that I would do so, and I now
only reveal them to you to make my story complete, and under the same injunction
of secrecy.”

“It shall be observed faithfully, but go on with your narrative.”

“While our preparations were in such fine train, as we supposed, for the intended
enterprise, and just on the eve of accomplishment, the city was one
morning astounded with the news that General Elliot had been arrested in his
own house, and conveyed to prison. We had scarcely heard the news before
my cousin and myself were arrested, and our papers submitted to the most rigid
scrutiny. Fortunately there was nothing in them which could in the least
compromise us, and we were after a short examination liberated. I need not
dwell upon the melancholy particulars of the General's trial, you have doubtless
read them in the English newspapers; suffice it to say, that he was convicted
of high treason, and sentenced to be beheaded. Before that fatal day
came, all of us who had been implicated in fact, but not in law, resolved to
make one daring and desperate effort for his rescue. You know, also, the result
of the mad attempt. It was led by Frank—he was cut down by the soldiers
on duty, and rode over by a troop of dragoons. No one supposed it possible
that he could survive. He was carried off by a party of Collegians, who witnessed
the affray and recognised him. To the world he has been dead eversince.”

“To the world,” exclaimed Ellen, seizing his hand entreatingly, “then he
yet lives to his friends.”

“I will not, cannot say positively; but I will say, that I saw him after he
was reported to be dead.”

“Oh God, I thank thee!” exclaimed his auditor, and would have fallen
from her seat had he not supported her.

When she had somewhat recovered, he continued: “while he was yet in a
state quivering between life and death, he dictated a long letter to you.”

“I have never received a line from him since that fatal day, and indeed
for some time before.”

“I have that letter in my possession.”

[figure description] Page 078.[end figure description]

“Oh then give it to me at once—keep me not in suspense.”

“It is in my trunk—if you feel able now to walk to the house, I will hand it
to you as soon as we arrive there.”

“On the instant, I am as strong as ever I was in my life; I could walk to
the capital, if that were necessary.”

Toward the house they moved; the invalid, who but a few hours before
dragged her steps along, now almost pulled the tutor, so impatient was she,
and so buoyant and elastic her step.

When she had received the precious document, she rushed out of the door
leading to her apartment never stopping to thank the donor, or make any salutation
whatever. There he stood in the middle of the floor, his hands still
extended, and his moist eye resting on the place where she last stood.
Whether he envied the unfortunate youth all his misfortunes, who was the
subject of such an undisguised attachment, we cannot undertake to say. His
interest in that pale young creature seemed to have been deeply aroused, but
whose would not, under such circumstances.

She never afterwards recollected how she arrived at her room, but the door
was locked all the balance of that day. Occasionally she was heard walking
about, no one could account for it, except Mr. Hall, and he said nothing. Such
things were so common for her, however, that her prolonged absence was
passed over. Her father, the Governor, and Kate, were all at Williamsburg.

The letter ran as follows:

Dear Ellen:

I still call you so, in spite of all that is passed. Before you receive this
letter, I shall be in my grave; what a termination is this to all those bright
and hopeful dreams of youth, which mutually inspired our hearts at our last
meeting: but I do not regret it—indeed I have sought an honorable death, as
a relief from the deep, deep disappointment of those hopes. Oh, Ellen, you
recollect—you must recollect that blessed evening, when our young hearts
were suddenly and unexpectedly laid bare to each other. Why could not
those blissful moments continue forever? Does the curse which has gone
forth against our race, interdict the continuance of such happiness as was
then ours? It seems so; our betrothal has but terminated as ail other youthful
engagements have done before it; but I did hope other and better things
of her who was so entwined round my heart, that to tear away her image,
would be to unseat my very soul itself; and so it yet appears to me. I can
die, and leave my possessions to my brother; and above all of them, I can
resign you to him—for I considered you as much mine as the pupil of my
eye; but I cannot live and see these things. I would scarcely trust myself
with the sight of you as another's wife, even if that other were my brother.

I could not have believed that it could come to this; and would not now believe
it, if I had not received it from Harry's own hand, and no one who
bears the name of Lee can lie? It was corroborated also by your own mysterious
silence. But think not, still ever dear Ellen, that I have propped up my
feeble frame on the bed of death to utter reproaches against you, far from it—
far, very, far from it. I thought it might relieve your burthened memory in
after time, if I would, before I died, voluntarily release you with my own hand
from all engagemants to me. I know that you were very young at the time
of our rash promises to each other, and I know that our affections are not always
within our own control. Lét not the memory, then, of our youthful
loves poison those of your maturer years.

May you and Harry glide gently down the vale of life, undisturbed by
the trials which have wrecked my peace! May the gentlest dews of heaven
moisten your green paths; and hand in hand may you support each other
through whatever afflictions may be thrown in your way—and at last, may we
all meet hereafter in a higher and nobler sphere of action.

[figure description] Page 079.[end figure description]

These wishes are sincere and honest, for they are the products of the bitter
and honest hour of death. I could not write them sooner, and it were not safe
to defer it longer, for already I feel the damp dews of death gathering upon my
brow, and the shadowy visions of the dark valley falling over my eyes—they are
covered with mist. Farewell! farewell! Frank Lee.

It would be impossible to depict the various and conflicting emotions which
agitated her heart while perusing this letter. She read it over and over
again, and walked the room with it in her hand, occasionally referring to it,
to note some passages whose meaning she was attempting to understand
more clearly. Night came and still she pondered over that single page of
writing, though she had learned every word of it by heart. The very punctuation
became a matter of moment. A single note of interrogation after the
word lie, though placed there in the hurry of agitated composition, or by mistake,
seemed to her excited fancy as if poor Frank had intended to ask the
question, whether Harry could have falsified her or not. Who is there in
this world of trouble, who has not thus dwelt upon a letter containing bad
news, vainly endeavoring to draw consolation from some chance word by
which the disastrous news might be softened, and torturing the words of the
writer into meanings never meant to be conveyed? Though that long day
and night were spent in grief and suffering, it was merely over a new aspect
given to the old sorrow by the letter. On the whole, her heart was relieved
by a review of the story of the Tutor, and she now, with something like
reason, nursed the hope on her heart, that she would one day yet meet her
long lost lover. In this happy conviction she fell into a deep sleep before
morning, from which she was not roused until the sun was high up in his
daily rounds.