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THE ICH --Al. ERENTON.

By MRS. M. A. DENISON,

AUTHOR OF “rLoRtDA,” ‘ RUTH MARGERIE,” “MAD HUNTER,” ETC., BTO.

LONDON:
GEORGE ROUTLEDGE & SONS,

THE BROADWAY, LUDGATE HILL,
 

 
 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

CHAPTER I.
THE HESSIAN COMMANDER.
“Wet! we have driven them this time, General !” cried
a red-faced colonel, entering the tent of the Hessian com-
mander, Colonel Rahl, General by brevet.

“Yes, so [should think,” replied the General, gloomily.

“ You—you are not wounded, General ?”

“ Wounded ! ten thousand furies, what do you mean?”
indignantly demanded General Rahl.

“Pardon me, General. I really thought you looked
pale—pardon me.”

“You can retire,” said his superior ; and as the younger
man left the tent, placing a communication, which the
General had required, upon the table, the latter threw
down two letters, and then sank angrily into his seat.

“ Audacious little rebel !’? he muttered, his face grow-
ing blacker as he thought, ‘‘to write me a note like that.”

Meanwhile the offending paper, pure and white, touched
only by the delicate pen that a graceful hand had wielded,
laid half folded, as he had thrown it down. The other
letter, or note, which accompanied it, was written with
bolder characters and blacker ink. It ran thus :—

“ Dear General,—May I have the pleasure of seeing
you at Walsingham House on the 26th? We have all
heen rejoicing. over the late news—thank God and the

 
  

6 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

King ! You have done nobly, and we propose, in a small
way, to celebrate the victory.
“LADY JOHANNA WALSINGHAM.”

“ Who's Lady Walsingham?’ the General had muttered
to himself, as he threw down this second missive. “ Oh,
LT have it! She must be the aunt of Lieutenant George,
in the King’s Guards. It won’t do to slight her invita-
tion ; and yet, upon my word, I feel as much disinclined
to pleasure-taking as if I were going to my father’s
funeral. Well, who wants me now ?”

* Corporal Dave has come to see if we shall take the
old meeting-house for an hospital,” said the guard, as he
saluted.

“Take anything that will answer the purpose, and
don’t bother me; that’s not my business,” was the sharp
reply.

Just then, his servant came in to set the table, and
General Rahl, lifting his letters, deposited them, one in
his right hand vest-pocket, the other in his left, and
sauntered out.

Tt was now somewhere about six, and the camp-fires
were beginning to be lighted. A great many of the
officers and soldiers had possessed themselves of quarters
in Trenton and across the little stream, “ Assunpinch
Creek,” as the people called it, in the south part of the
town. The inhabitants thus suddenly found their houses
encroached upon by the Hessians, and, of course, could
do nothing but submit. But General Rahl preferred his
tent, and so did many of the commanders, for at this
time there was a large force quartered at Trenton—larger
than it would have been possible to accommodate.

As the General moved out alone, and walked down the
regularly-laid street between the rows of tents, the gun-

  
 
   
  
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

  
 

A LOVE-SMITTEN GENERAL. a

light was fading from the west. The day's work had not
as yet occupied his mind. It was only a skirmish of the
advance, and by no means a heavy or serious battle. A
few scores only on both sides had been killed and wounded,
and the Hessians won the victory because of superior
numbers.

Misunderstandings at such times will occur, and one
had happened that day. The regular forces of Washing-
ton’s army were expected, and through some signals, not
intended to deceive, the small body of American soldiers
had begun the work. It was, however, a short fight.
Washington’s main force did not come, nor was it in any
near vicinity. The Hessians magnified their victory.

 

Many of them were fresh—among them General Rahl’s
division.

The General was a man of imposing stature, fully six
feet tall, and proportionately stately. By many he was
considered a handsome man—especially so by the ladies.
Few men had more noble qualities than he in any ordi-
nary position. But there were cases where his determi-
nation changed to stubbornness, his chivalry to cruelty.
He was a man who knew no merey where he conquered.
His passions were fierce :—he loved with ardour; he
hated with zeal. He despised the Americans as a people,
and often spoke of them with contempt, both men and
women—at least, until he met Elsie Vernon.

Tt was a curious meeting.

General Rahl sometimes went to church. One
Sunday, as he was passing up the aisle, he dropped his
glove. In stooping to pick it up, his sword, as he
imagined, touched some one, and he turned, in his own
haughty manner, to apologize. The sight that met him
struck him with instantaneous confusion. :

 
  

 

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

A richly dressed young girl, nobly beautiful, smiled
as she endeavoured to detach her lace shawl from a point
of the General’s ‘ accoutrements. It was over in a
moment. The General sat in his pew, conscious of but
one thing—that he had seen the loveliest face he had
ever looked upon, and also that that glance had sealed his
fate.

Elsie passed on with as stately a mien ag any he had
ever admired in Germany’s beautiful women. Her pew
was bewilderingly near. Well for him that she was
exceeding devout—for to Hslie Vernon her religion was
everything. Otherwise she might have marked the
great General as rude.

A strange, consuming passion had this American
beauty awakened in General Rahl. By the merest
chance, it seemed, he met her twice afterwards, once
at the house of her brother-in-law, a fierce little Tory,
and once at a small party given by one of the aristocrats
of Trenton. On both occasions he was near her, and
they conversed together. He became more and more
enamoured, until he dared to address her by letter, and
on the eve of this skirmish he had received, by the hands
of her black servant, a characteristic note, in which she
boldly and delicately asserted her opinions, and con-
cluded by requesting that the acquaintance might be
dropped.

The General’s dark eyes dilated as he read it—go did
his high-bred nostril. This American girl—one of the
people—a girl without rank, or possibly riches—with
only her beauty and style to recommend her, had as good
as refused him, General Rahl, Commander of all the
Hessian forces. It was audacious and should be re-
pented of.

 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
  
   
   
  
      
   
 

 

A PRISONER OF DISTINCTION. 9

In a very gloomy mood, then, the General walked
through the lines of tents until he came to an open spot
of ground, picturesque in knolls and tufts of frozen grass
and beautifully-disposed chestnut trees, whose bare
branches were strongly defined against the red of the
evening sky.

 

CHAPTER ILI.
THE PRESENCE OF RANK.

‘As he paused here, an officer was seen coming from
an. opposite direction. Exchanging salutations with his
superior in command, Colonel Dauphney stopped for a
moment to throw a glance around.

“J have been on a tour of inspection,” he said, hastily,
“to the little old church over there. I find the wounds
pretty serious, more so among the rebels than our own
men. Did you hear, General, that Colonel Wasp has in
his charge an important prisoner, a leutenant-colonel,
I think, of the American army ?”

“Tt is very strange—no,” said the General.

“Tn the confusion, and Colonel Wasp himself having
received a somewhat troublesome wound, I presume they
have neglected to inform you. I judge, however, that
yonder is the prisoner, and they are conveying him to
your tent.”

The General raised his eyebrows, as he saw in the
distance a guard, in the middle of which walked a tall,
finely-proportioned, soldierly man, in the American
uniform, ;

“He can wait,” he said, in an undertone, and then
cast his glances about him.

“That's a fine residence ;’ and he pointed in the

 
  

 

 

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

direction of a dwelling upon which the setting sun threw
a splendour quite unequalled for beauty by anything he
had ever seen in his own country. “It must be
acknowledged,” he said, “the climate is purer, the air
clearer, in America; hence objects in their colouring are
more vivid. Whose house did you say ?”

“That? Oh! Lady Walsingham’s fine place—the
finest and most like home I have yet seen in this
country,” said the colonel. ‘Lady Walsingham is a
widow, I believe; very dashing and handsome—at all
events, very showy. She’s rich as Croesus, they say, and
decidedly ‘one of us.’ There’s a great entertainment at
her house to-morrow night week—let me see—-that’s the
26th. Of course, you go ?”

“Not at all sure of it,” responded the General.

“We count upon having a great time. The widow
does things in style, they tell me. In this barbarous
country, one needs to see something of civilization some-
times, or one would relapse into barbarism. I shall go,
if it were only for the purpose of catching one glance at
her niece. You must have heard of her—an extra-
ordinary young girl, brought up in seclusion and the
utmost rigour of conventionality, and yet she has espoused
the abominable cause of the Colonists. There have been
whisperings of a rebel lover, too. But, upon my word,
Miss Elsie Vernon is the most remarkably superb young
lady I ever saw in my life—a crystallization—”

“ Miss Vernon her niece !” exclaimed General Rahl,
halting, for the two gentlemen had~been walking a short
distance together, and his face had changed white with
sudden emotion.

“T hear it is so,” said the colonel, who knew nothing
of the General’s infatuation, but was impressed by his

   
 
     
   
  
    
   
    
  
 
 
    
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
LADY WALSINGHAM. 11

manner. Lady Walsingham herself is, or has been,
a remarkably beautiful woman I have heard; so I suppose
her niece is a younger and more superb edition, Have you
seen her ?”

“ Yes, I have met her once or twice,” replied the
General, recovering his composure. “She is very well
looking—very well looking indeed; rather superior to
most of these American young women. But is she like—
ah! You told me she was intensely a rebel at heart, I
think.” ;

“So says rumour,” replied the colonel.

“ Pity, pity,” muttered the General, “so very beauti-
ful a girl, Has she been long in this country, I
wonder ?”

“Long? Why General, she was born here. Her
father was the Governor's secretary some years before he
died, and a very fine gentleman he was, as far I can
hear.”

“Tt strikes me I have heard of this Lady Walsingham
—I think you called her—abroad.”

“Tt may be so; I have heard very little about her
myself till to-day. I shall at all events attend her party.”

“So shall I,” said the General, grimly, to himself;
but, bidding the colonel good evening, he hurried to his
quarters.

Supper despatched, he was informed that the one
prisoner of importance who had been captured was in a
guard-tent, awaiting his pleasure.

“ Let him be brought in,” said the General.

In a few moments the officer stood before the Hessian
commander, fully his equal in all respects save that of
rank,

Lieutenant-Colonel Washburn was very nearly as tall

 
  

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

]

bo

a3 General Rahl, and even more gracefully proportioned.
The General was broad of shoulder and somewhat pro-
tuberant of stomach. The lieutenant-colonel was of a
fine breadth, also, but more delicately waisted. His eye,
larger and darker than that of the man before him, never
quailed as its penetrating glances fell upon its captor. In
features, he was not as massive as the foreigner, and his
full, curly, glossy beard gave to.his face an additional
beauty.

The two men stood for a moment surveying each other.

“So, you have been taken in arms against your lawful
Sovereign,” said the General, sternly.

“T consider that I have been taken prisoner by the
chances of war, while lawfully fighting for my country,
General,” was the reply.

“Your country,” said the other, with a curling lip;
“yabbish !” :

The dark eyes of the American gleamed with the fire
that shot from his heart at that speech.

“Tf I were not a prisoner, General, no man should say
that to me and live!” he exclaimed, hotly.

“ But you are a prisoner.”

The young man hung his head. Almost for the first
time he seemed to realize his true position, and his cheeks
glowed.

“You are a prisoner, and I am one who tolerates no
impertinence from the enemies of my King.”

The lieutenant-colonel said not another word ; and pre-
sently the General ordered him to his tent.

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
   
 

  

‘ALIS FAIR. IN LOVE.”

(Crea B PeBh ied ede
MOLLY PUTNAM.

In a neat little anteroom, leading out of the handsome
boudoir of Lady Walsingham, sat a young girl, her hands
folded listlessly upon her lap, her eyes humid and red, as
if she had shed secret tears.

She was not beautiful, this Molly Putnam, but a right
cheery, pink blossom-cheeked damsel, a furmer’s bonny
daughter. She seemed very deep in thought as she sat
there, for her glances looked far beyond the range of
objects that bounded her vision. The room, shining in
the cheery sun of a clear December day, was much
brighter than its occupant, for all its pretty furniture
was covered or bordered with pink French chintz, and
two or three mirrors reflected back the myriad sun-rays
that came in from the quaint, many-paned windows.

“Tt was mean, that’s just what it was, to take advan-
tage of such a handful,” cried Molly to herself, shaking
with suppressed rage ; “but that’s just like those great

hulking redcoats. And now who knows but poor Paul
lies there in the hospital? It chills me to the heart to
think of it. He’s not dead, for Joe managed to see all
of them, poor fellows! Dear, dear, how shall I contrive
to find out for myself? I have it,” she cried, a moment
after, brightening. ‘“T’ll pretend to come round to their
side. All’s fair in love or war—and I must find out if
Harry is there, or I shall fret myself to death.”

At that moment a silvery sound tinkled near. Molly
sprung to her feet, and passed out lightly into the next
room. Everything there bespoke the utmost elegance
of taste, and a lavish expenditure. The curtains, which
let the light in faintly, were of rose-coloured silk; over

 

  
 

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

them swayed the finest webs of costly lace. In the yield-
ing carpet the foot sunk readily ; the atmosphere was
redolent of fragrance, the most subtle and delicious :
while, in an immense easy-chair, quaintly covered, sat
the mistress of all these splendours, her luxuriant hair
falling spray-like over her shoulders, and adhering to the
velvet covering of the chair.

“Molly, ’m somewhat late, child; I was so much
interested listening to the news, that my dressing hour
went by unheeded. Glorious news, Molly, for us !”

“So I should think, indeed,” said Molly, cheerily.

“Should you, child?” and Lady Walsingham, turning
round with rather more than her usual vivacity, fixed her
bright eyes on Molly’s face. The girl did not quail, she
even smiled cheerfully, bravely, while her heart was
aching, and the lady fell back in her chair, quite elated.

“T thought we should have you, my dear,” she said,
gently. “The fact is, I shall feel easier in my mind if
you really have got to looking at things as you should.
To tell the truth, I should have felt some little annoyance
at having such a staunch little rebel about my person,
much as I respect your good father, who is loyal to the
heart’s core. I knew it would not take long to bring
yeu to your senses.” Pretty Molly smiled. “Now be
sensible, little one, for visitors may arrive any moment,
and I should not be surprised at all if some of the officers
were to come in this morning.”

Lady Walsingham was a handsome woman, though
nearer forty than thirty. Still she had little need to
heighten her charms by art. Her eyes were large, black,
and almond-shaped, but almost too brilliant to be
beautiful. To features of extreme delicacy, nature had
added a complexion of unusual richness, showing that

    

  
  

 

A DISTINGUISHED VISITOR.

 

creamy, almost transparent tint, so rarely seen in con-
nexion with a dark skin.

Molly was partly lady’s maid, partly companion. The
daughter of one of the neighbouring farmers who wished
to serve the King’s cause, she was too well educated to
work in a menial capacity, but her father consented that
she should fill the place she did. Lady Walsingham was
not hard to please, and the brilliant little country girl
was so pretty and witty that she was allowed almost the
privileges of an equal.

“Do be quick, Molly, there’s a darling. I know 1
shall have callers—I feel it in my bones. There! A
or at least three of them ;

 

knock, as sure as I’m a sinner
and—oh! finished have you? Well, you are a blessing !”

A servant entered with a card on a small silver waiter,
Molly took the card, as the lady’s hands were engaged
just then, and her mistress read it over her shoulder.

“General Rahl! Why that’s delightful! I certainly
never expected him. Molly, tell me, do I look my best—
my very best, mind? Which mantle shall I wear—blue,
black, or crimson !—pray tell me. One might know I had
been among the heathen by my miserable indecision.”

“Wear the crimson. There! you never looked better
in your life.”

“ Tittle flatterer!’ cried her ladyship. “ Now, take
your book, and the blue mantle on your arm, in case I
should complain of the cold, you see ;” she laughed.

Molly did as she was requested ; put on her demurest
face, as Lady Walsingham’s companion, and threw the
mantle over her arm.

“Tf you could but do me one little favour,” she said,
pleadingly, as she left the room,

“Well, what! Speak quick, Molly.”

 

  
  

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“ Only to ask the great General if I might be allowed
to see the hospital. I never looked upon such a sight in
my life. You know I could carry some refreshments for
—our men.”

“And why not for any of them?’ spoke up Lady
Walsingham, ‘I’m sure, although I hate the enemies of
my King, Pd do my best for them if I saw them
wounded, Yes, Molly, I am almost sure of his ac-
quiescence. Come along.”

General Rahl arose as Lady Walsingham sailed into
the parlour. He was really astonished at her beauty.
Molly Putnam stole quietly into her usual seat, and
oceupied herself with her book and her knitting
alternately. Lady Walsingham, whose manners never
had been distinguished by any peculiar reticence, at once
glided into easy conversation, and the General thought
that if he had not seen the niece, he might have been
fascinated by the more mature charms of the buxom,
beautiful widow before him.

“ Allow me to congratulate you, General, on your
victory,” she said, after a few preliminary remarks.

“Thank you, though really it was a small affair,” was
the reply. “ A little party of volunteers engaged a mere
corporal’s guard of my regulars, and the poor fellows got
worsted.”

“ Was it nothing more than a skirmish ?”

“Not much more, J assure you. There are less than
a hundred wounded in our hospital. You are aware that
the church has been taken for that purpose, I suppose ?
—we have to do these things in times of war—and not
more than fifteen or twenty were killed in all. The
fellows were foolhardy to attempt the thing at all.”

“ Poor souls!” said Lady Walsingham, her thoughts

 
   
   
    
  
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
   
  

a

 

A CONVERTED REBEL. Le:

reverting to the wounded men. “Do you allow any
visitors, General ?”

“There have been some permits given, I believe, to
some of the ladies of Trenton, but not many. My statfi-
surgeon is one of the most particular men in the world,
and in matters over which he has any jurisdiction, I
assure you I am willing he should take the whole re-
sponsibility. He's an excellent man, but an old Betty of
a doctor, as I frequently tell him. Still, if you have any
desire to see the hospital, I could easily manage it for
you.”

“JT have a little friend,” said Lady Walsingham, with
great delicacy, “my companion, over there—Molly, you
heard what the General said ?”

Molly’s cheeks were covered with blushes. She arose,
after the manner of those primitive times, and gave a
demure little curtsey.

“She has a great desire to see an hospital,” said Lady
Walsingham, after she had sent Molly out on some pre-
tence, “and I have a cupboard stocked with jellies,
which I should be glad to dispense—so you will be doing
a double favour.”

*“T shall be very happy,” said the General, bowing low.
“The little girl has, no doubt, a lover, about whom she is
anxious.”

“Oh! no—indeed, no;” replied Lady Walsingham,
quickly. “I am very sure, from what I know of her
father’s character, that would never be allowed. Besides,
though yesterday she was a provoking little rebel, to-day
she shows signs of common-sense, and really, by means
of my poor teaching, I hope, begins to betray some interest
in our cause.”

“T wish, Lady Walsingham, your peculiar means of

?

 

  
  

 

 

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

conversion could be used in one or two cases of which Ihave
heard. We have some bitter opponents in the youth and
beauty of Trenton.”

“Indeed, you say truly, General,” said Lady Wal-
singham, her cheeks taking a deeper tinge. “I myself
have a niece with whom it is next to impossible to live, so
bitter and uncompromising a patriot is she. You may
have met her—Miss Elsie Vernon.”

“Tam happy to say that I have been honoured with
some slight tokens of her friendship,” said the General,
looking down—and no one would have noticed the pain
in his voice. “ As you say, I should judge her to be
unrelenting in her antipathy to the cause of the King.”

“ Indeed, she is. She and I have had some hot dis-
putes, though I am usually one of the too forbearing kind.
But, really, Elsie is intolerable. I charged her’ once
with having a rebel lover,” added Lady Walsingham,

laughingly.

“ And what did she say ?’ queried the General, with
suppressed eagerness.

“Oh ! she turned it off as such a very haughty creature
might ; for, General, she is intensely proud. But, then,
of course, I don’t believe it myself; I only did it to
annoy her, if I must confess as much. You have no idea
how many quarrels we have had. We are scarcely on
speaking terms, though she’s the dearest creature alive,
aside from that.”

“She is very beautiful,” remarked the General, an ap-
pearance of relief in his fine features.

“She is, indeed, General,” said Lady Walsingham,
heartily. “I must declare what one woman seldom does
of another, you know—that she is the loveliest girl I ever
saw in my life, if she is my niece.”

 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
  
 
 
  

in

  
A WOULD-BE JOAN OF ARC. 19

“ She does not reside with you, then ?”

“ Bless me! no,” returned the lady; “we couldn't
assimilate any easier than oil and water. Neither would
she stay with her brother-in-law, who has no mercy in
his composition, She is at present with her father’s
brother, a lawyer; but I question if she will remain
with him long. It is an infatuation, She speaks and
acts like an inspired creature, and declares that she would
lead an army herself if she might but be accepted. She
is very bitter against his Majesty, and ridicules the
nobility and the Court. Oh! I assure you she is quite
noted. The people here worship her, and I really think
she would make a very creditable Joan of Ave, if she had
the opportunity. :

The General arose to go.

“ Notwithstanding all this, General, she’s a dear, good,
generous girl—the daughter of my favourite brother. I
hope my tongue has not run away with my judgment.”

“T assure you, madam,” said the General, with a look
that to her seemed one of admiration, “I honour your
niece’s adherence to what she considers her convictions of
duty.”

“ And shall my little Molly have a pass ?”

“Tt will afford me the greatest pleasure, Lady Walsing-
ham, I will send it by one of my aides.”

The General had scarcely gone when letters came.
One of these Lady Walsingham opened as soon as she re-
entered her room.

“ Mercy Molly ! come here.”

Molly came.

“That wilful girl refuses my overtures.”

‘Tndeed, my lady !”

* And what am I to do without her, I should like to

 
     
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
     
  
 
 
   

 

 

 

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

know? Perhaps she don’t think that I need her as much
for her suggestions as anything—her taste is exquisite,
T don’t know what I shail do without her—I don’t, in-
deed! She is excessively provoking.”

“Tam very sorry,” said Molly, humbly, though in her ae
heart she worshipped Miss Elsie, and thought her like the
King, who could do no wrong.

“ But, Molly, she must come! I can’t do without her,”
cried Lady Walsingham, in real distress.

“Then I’m sure I wish she might come,” said Molly.

“Molly, you must go there—you must, child, and use
all your powers of persuasion. Picture me entirely help- ¢
less without her. Jl excuse her willingly on the night
of the party, but she surely must help me with her taste
and her fingers. I’m certain I shall never forgive her if
she don’t !”

“Tl do anything of the kind you wish,” said Molly.
“ Couldn’t I go there and to the hospital all under one?”

“No, my dear; the pass may not come in time. It is
best that you set off at once for my niece. You will find
her—but you know very well where she is stopping.”

“ At Lawyer William Asbury’s, in the red house.”

“‘That’s the place. Now, hurry, there’s a darling.”

CHA PTE RY Ty.
THE MAN OF LAW.

Tue red house, par excellence, was rather an imposing
feature at that time. It occupied a conspicuous position,
and was approached by several terraces, each reached by
a long flight of steps.

Lawyer Asbury, as he was called, was one of the
wealthiest men in Trenton, His practice was large, and

  
why

AN AGREEABLE BREAKFAST PARTY. 21

he had married a fortune—a weak but beautiful woman.
Asbury was a man of splendid and extravagant taste,
His grounds were laid out with great beauty, and his
extreme fear was that there might some time be a battle
in Trenton which would disfigure his garden. He was a
tall man—quite handsome and dignified, and a violent

‘Tory—so violent that he was often sneered at by his

partizans for not taking command of a company himself.

The whole town was astir with the noise and news of
the skirmish, which was magnified into a battle. General
Washington was reported captured and a great part of
his army killed by the Hessians. All the lawyer’s
family were joyful over the event on the morning after
the attack—all but one beautiful girl, whose large, dark
eyes were tearless, and her cheeks white as death.

The man of law came in, jubilantly, as the family were

about seating themselves at breakfast.

“ Great doings!” he cried, “ though not so glorious as
we anticipated. It was only a skirmish. The ragged
vermin expected reinforcements, but they never came;
and they were easily despatched, horse and dragoons. It
was only a barelegged platoon, any way,” he added,
laughing.

Elsie glanced up at once. The anger in her eye was
at a white heat, and he knew it.

“ Remember, Uncle Asbury, those men you speak of
are my countrymen,” she said severely.

“ With all due deference,” he answered, with a sar-
castic bow, ‘‘ Miss Vernon may claim them as her rela-
tives, if she pleases.”

“T had rather they were than some who are,” she
answered, with spirit.

“Thank you, Miss Vernon, for the compliment !” he

 
 

 

 

 

‘CAPTAIN MOLLY.

returned, with blazing eyes. ‘ Your discrimination does
you honour. I saw several of these gallant countrymen
of yours, and, before heaven, my eyes never beheld such
another set of tatterdemalions. There wasn’t a whole
coat among them, nor a pair of good breeches, A
splendid Continental Army, sans shoes, sans stockings,
sans everything !”

“ Everything except the will and the power to drive
these Hessian and British intruders out of the country,
and that they will do, mark me, sir, no matter what
defeat precedes it. ‘Then, I wonder, who will sneer ?”

“When that time comes, Miss Vernon, I promise you
to throw up my cap for Washington,”

“T accept the promise, and shall hold you to it,” said
Hlsie, rising from the table.

“Very well, Miss Vernon; and now you will, perhaps,
condescend to breakfast with us. Perhaps I have more
news for you.” i

“Uncle Asbury, I will never taste food or drink in
this house again, till the enemies of my country are
driven out of Trenton.”

She stood before them all, unwavering—her beautiful
eyes soft and steady in their glances, as they encountered
the frowning eyes of her uncle.

“Then, my dear, your rash resolve will exclude you
for ever, I am very much afraid. You had better think
again before you leave us. Your brother-in-law has
closed his doors against you, because—”

“ Tt is untrue, sir,” cried Elsie, her eyes blazing at the
charge. “TI left him because I considered him a traitor
to his country—in fine, for the same reason that I leave
you. I am independent, thank God, and do not need to
cringe for fayour to anyone whose principles I despise.”

 
   

a?

  
et

ELSIE’S PREDICTION. 23

“ Impertinence !” lisped Mrs. Asbury, who had sat all
this time pulling her straw-coloured ringlets. “William,
I wonder you don’t box her ears.”

“T should like to see him or you attempt it,” cried
Elsie, whose wrath was now intense. “I am only too
sorry that I ever condescended to accept the hospitality
of this house. And now, uncle, I prophecy,” she
continued, turning her beautiful face, white and
gleaming, toward him, “that before the month is
through, your detestable Hessians will be routed and
scattered to the four winds by the army of George
Washington ; and then I shall expect you to lift your
cap to the victorious General.”

Having said these words, the brave girl left the room.

“Tl not tell her the rest,” said the lawyer; “she may
find it owt as she can.”

“Why, what is it?” queried his wife.

“They have captured something more than a tatter-
demalion rebel—no other than  Lieutenant-Colonel
Washburn. He is at present a prisoner, and will,
perhaps, turn out a spy. If so, there’s the hangman's
rope for him.”

Elsie stood just within the door. She had heard the
last of this cruel speech, and at once comprehended the
whole. She could scarcely have turned paler than she
did; for one moment her strength seemed to fail her, and
she caught at the door. It would not do, however, to
let the family behold her emotion; so, resolutely sup-
pressing every trace of suffering, she appeared before
them, merely to bid them adieu.

“ Ah! so you're really in earnest !” sneered her uncle.

“JT thought you knew me by this time,” was her calm
reply.

 
     
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
      
   
   
   
  
    
  
 
 
 
 
  

 

   

 

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“T do know you for a very obstinate young lady,” was
his answer.

“T shall stop for the present with the widow Green,”
was the only answer. “If I am inquired for, will you
be kind enough to remember ?”

“ With all the pleasure in the world,” said the lawyer.
“Tf any of your barefoot rapscallions among the butchers
and shoemakers of Trenton should call upon your lady-
ship, I will send them to the widow Green, seamstress
and laundress par eacellence—American head-quarters,
Lhave the honour to wish you a very good-morning.”

To this insulting speech Elsie replied nothing, but
turned away abruptly and left the house.

’

C PEAR ALE RaW
THE PEDLER.

Mouty trudged along, delighted with the thought that
she should soon meet with one with whom she could
converse without reserve. The day was fine, clear, and
cold. She had nearly reached the little bridge that
separated the town, when a party of Hessian soldiers
came along. They had been drinking, and were very
merry, singing German songs.

Molly looked about her in alarm. here was a small
house, not far off, where, in better times, beer and cakes
had been sold, but now it seemed quite deserted. The
Hessians advanced, and as they came, appeared as if, in a
body, they would run her down and crush her. She
stood aside, her cheeks flushed, but her heart beating
wildly. She was a brave girl, but the sight of twenty
or thirty armed foreigners, some of them intoxicated,
and flushed with wine and their small victory, made
  

  

A TIMELY INTERPOSITION. 25
her quail. As they came near, their pace suddenly
slackened, and one spoke to another with rude and
boisterous laughter.

Molly grew sick and cold. What if they should kill
her from mere wantonness, and throw her into the river?

There was no chance of escape. Once she was tempted —

to turn and run, but the act seemed so contemptible to
her high spirit, that she almost preferred death.

Suddenly the door of the house that had seemed quite
deserted opened, and a little old man, somewhat bent,
came out with a small pack on his back. Molly was
scarcely breathing now, between her terror and suspense.

The pedler, if that was his calling, walked straight on
toward the Hessians, not appearing to notice the
trembling gir] in the least.

“ Ah! fellow-comrades, I have pipes, I have trinkets,”
he said in German. “TI have articles very cheap.
Come you this way, and you shall have them for next
to nothing,”

The men, attracted by the novelty, soon crowded about
the pedler, apparently forgetting the frightened Molly,
who took advantage of the highway, and walked quickly
on, only quickening her pace. After some moments,
hearing footsteps, she looked around. The pedler was
hastening after her.

“Oh! I thank you so much, my good friend,
Molly, her cheeks now quite blanched.

“ Tt is of no consequence,” the man returned in broken
English; “TI shall see you along a little further. It is
imprudent for you to be out alone. Your business must

”

said

be ef importance.”
She glanced at him keenly as he said this, but his face
was turned away.

 
 
   
 
   
  
 
 
    
  
 
    
 
  
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
   

 

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“ Perhaps it is, and perhaps not,” she replied, laughing,

“ Tf you were a spy you could get nothing from me.”
“ But if I were a spy on the right side?”
“ Oh! but I should want to see your credentials first.”
“Very right. Then, my good girl, look at this when
you get home,” and he placed a paper in her hand.
She glanced at it and gave a stifled ery.
“ Well, what’s the matter?”

She looked at him, then at the bold handwriting on the

back of the letter before her, so unlike any other that she
had ever seen.

“ That must be the signature of Captain Paul—”

“ Hist!” cried the pedler, as they drew near a knot
of people.

“ But it is his,” she repeated, in a low tone. “Do you
know him?” she added, eagerly 3 “is he alive?”

“ He was, last night,” was the low response.

“ Great heaven ! is he here?”

“ Here! Why, little woman, do you know how many
miles a man can travel between sunset and sunrise?”

“ Oh! then you saw him somewhere—he is not dead ?”
and her cheek flushed again.

“ He is not dead, to my certain knowledge,” was the
reply.

Molly looked down, but said nothing. Again her
heart was beating almost fiercely, but not with dread.
All doubt was at an end. She had no motive now for
visiting the little hospital. Paul Green, her handsome
lover, was yet living. The stranger watched her furtively.
He saw the eyes grow bright and sparkling—noted the
quick movement of her bodice—her abstracted manner—
and said to himself :

“ She loves him—she loves him !”

   
  

oe

 

IS HE A spy?

“Oh! here I am, at Lawyer Asbury’s,” cried Molly,
looking up from her delicious reverie. Thank you a
thousand times for your kindness and protection, and if
you should need any advice, call at Lady Walsingham’s
—~you will be sure to find me.”

“ A noted Tory house, eh?”

“True, but she is a kind, good woman, and does not
feel as even some of those who were born in this country.
As for me, I have no choice—1my father put me there.”

“ And your father is a Tory, though you are not, I
take it.”

““ You have no right to question me,” was the quick
reply.

“True, I beg your pardon,” and the queer old man
passed on,

“ Great heaven! what have I said?” cried Molly to
herself. ‘‘ The man may be a spy, and I never thought”
—and she reviewed his questions and her answers.

“TJ think I was careful,” she mumured, as she went
slowly from terrace to terrace. ‘ As for this letter, what-
ever it is, ll read it and burn it.”

* Little Molly Putnam, from Lady Walsingham’s,”
echoed Mrs. Asbury. ‘ Let her come in. No doubt she
has brought me a note for the great party.”

“Well, my dear,” cried the lawyer's wife, “ and how
is my Lady Walsingham?”

* Yes, how is my dear, my precious Lady Walsing-
ham?” whistled a small, affected voice, and Molly,
glancing up, saw the most grotesque miniature of a
woman that she had ever met in her life, painted and
padded and patched and powdered, and so altogether
made up, that it was difficult to tell where any part of
the real woman was.

 

  
  

ee re

 

238 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“ This is Miss Lydia Lavoy, my dear, who used to be
such a famous belle. No doubt, you have heard of her.”

“ Used to be the toast of all the young gentlemen, my
dear,” put in the other, complacently smoothing out the
folds of her sea-green silk, “and not bad looking now,
considering she has passed her thirtieth year. Do you
think so?”

Molly could hardly keep from laughing outright, as the
antiquated little woman, who had probably seen her
sixtieth winter, bobbed down upon the sofa. But, she
had no time to spend in compliments.

“T came to see Miss Elsie, on her aunty’s account,”
she said, turning to the lawyer’s wife.

“Then, my dear, you must go to a very low and com-
mon place to find her,” replied Mrs. Asbury. Molly
opened her eyes, quite terrified.

“Yes, Miss Vernon took offence at something her
Uncle Charles said about the ragged troops of General
Washington, and chose to leave our protection. I think
she lives with that old laundress in the lane. You know
her, a Mrs. Green, I think.”

Molly’s cheek burned as if she had been insulted ; but
remembering the 7é/e she had proposed to herself to play,
she suppressed the indignation trembling on her lips.

“ T hardly think Mrs. Green should be called a laun-
dress,” she replied, as respectfully as she could, “ because
when the American officers wanted their linen done up
she volunteered to have it washed. You know, Mrs.
Asbury, there were so many Tories in town that the
washerwomen were all afraid to work for the Continental

army. Iam sure Mrs. Green has always been a lady.”

“The kind of lady that I have no wish to associate
with,” said Mrs. Asbury, with a sneer, “ However, lady

   

  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
AT WIDOW GREEN'S. 29

or no lady, Miss Vernon has seen fit to make her home
with her.”

Away tured Molly, freighted with compliments from
poor Miss Lydia Lavoy to Walsingham House. She
took her way to the pleasant lane on the outskirts, where
widow Green. resided, in a quaint, picturesque, two-storie?

cottage.

 

© Han PAY NEAL,
TWO DISCOVERIES.

A. MAN, old in figure, leaned over the little oaken table
pointing out the outlines of a map. His face was hidden
by luxuriant curls, which it was the fashion for the men
of that day to wear.

The room was an apartment—the widow Green’s cot-
tage —a large, sunny, homely parlour, which, apart from
a few good pictures, and two or three elegant pieces of
antique furniture, had in it nothing unusual. An old
eight-day clock ticked in the corner, its tall mahogany
frame looking gaunt and care-worn with time, for it wag
a heir-loom, and very ancient. A yellow painted spin-
ning-wheel could be seen through the open door that led
into the kitchen.

On the opposite side of the table stood Elsie Vernon,
her beautiful face quite colourless, and though she was
listening attentively, seeming to regard the proceedings
before her with far-away glances, Next to her, her whole
attention absorbed, the widow Green leaned partly on
her son’s shoulder, as she watched the intricacies of the
map.

Outside, near the gate, stood uncouth Hannahg the
only serving-maid and faithful friend and attendant of

 
    
  
 
 
 
   
   
   
   
  
 
 
  
    
  
   
   
  
 
 
   
   

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

the widow through many years, both of prosperity and
adversity. She was to wave or lift a red handkerchief
carelessly, if she saw anyone coming.

“ There you see,” said the pedler, still intent upon
his explanations, “ how it was the General feared the
enemy might pass behind him. There is Northcastle,
and here is where he fortified. He always gives his
soldiers something to protect them, if it is possible.
Why, I’ve known him to throw up a barrier in twelve
hours that looked as though a thousand forty-pounders
couldn’t breach it, and yet, I suppose well-planted cannon
could have knocked it to flinders. He’s great for
strategy, is General Washington. Lee has a splendid
reputation in the army, but, with all his military acumen,
he was surprised and captured at a little farm-house off
here.”

“So that story was true!” said Elsic. “I was so
mortified when my uncle told me.”

“ The whole army was mortified,” returned the young
man. “ They'll never catch Washington napping in that
way. You see Fort Lee; it is on the west bank of the
Hudson, opposite Fort Washington. Well, there was
where we made our retreat. It was a dark time, I
assure you, with a great well-disciplined army in our
rear. We lost almost everything—tents, baggage,
artillery, and provisions. But, by heavens! nothing
discourages the General. No matter how much the men
complain, or the officers grumble. By the way—”

“See, Mrs. Green, Hannah has the handkerchief flying,”
cried Elsie.

Up went the battered hat of the pedler—in which the
thick dark locks were hidden, and the face assumed its old
grim expression.

 
 

 

    

A GROUNDLESS ALARM. bl

“ Oh! it’s only Molly, the dear little thing,” cried Elsie,
again going to the window. “ Captain Paul, I don’t think
you need be afraid of her.”

““T don’t, indeed,” replied the other, who had hastily
drawn out his small pack, and thrust the crumpled map
into his pocket, while, through the psuedo wrinkles on
his face, the blood leaped redly. “ Still, it may be best
to be cautious,” he added, with a smile.

“ Molly, darling !” cried Elsie, with whom the young
girl was a great favourite. —

“Oh! Miss Elsie, I’m so glad!’ She turned and
started with astonishment. “Why! here’s the pedler,
who protected me so kindly on the road.”

“Protected you?’ echoed Elsie and the widow.

“Should you know him again ?’ asked a well-remem-
bered voice, that set all her pulses beating, and the
pedler lifted the battered old cap, showing a fine breadth
of forehead and his luxuriant hair.

“Remember—oh! Captain Paul!” cried Molly, her
cheeks covered with blushes. He held up his finger ;
Molly’s eyes fell. To think he should have deceived her
so! Again she tried to recollect all she had said to him.
Did he notice her delight when she recognized his hand-
writing? Not only her cheeks but her ears tingled now.
In her confusion she felt as if she should sink through
the floor. Elsie noticed her agitation and quickly divined
the cause.

“Come with me, Molly,” she said; “I have something
to tell you.”

“Oh! Miss Elsie, would you have dreamed it was
Captain Paul?” cried Molly, when they were alone
together.” ’
“No, my dear, we neither of us recognized him-—not

  

  
   

 

   
  

CAPTAIN

 

MOLLY.

even his mother. Why, my child, the tears are in your
eyes!”

“ T—I feel wretchedly nervous,” half sobbed Molly.

“Indeed, my pcor little girl, we have all cause to feel
wretchedly nervous. You did not hear, perhaps, that
Lieutenant-Colonel Washburn was a prisoner ?”

“Oh! Miss Elsie !” cried Molly, forgetting all her
troubles, “that can’t be possible.”

“T fear itis, though it may have been an invention of
my uncle, to disconcert and trouble me.”

“That splendid young gentleman,” cried Molly. “Ts
hein the custody of the Hessian General, do you think ?”

“You mean General Rahl? He must be, my dear, of
course, if he is a prisoner. The last time I heard of him
he was at Fort Washington. How he came here’ I can-
not tell.” .

“ General Rahl was at your aunt’s but this morning.”

“Ts that so?” queried Elsie, with new interest.

“Yes ; he is to be present at a grand party to be given
at Walsingham House on Christmas night. It was to
beg you to go there, on or before the occasion, that Lady
‘Walsingham sent me here.

“She knows I would not,” cried Elsie, indignantly.

“She says she can never get along without your taste
and skill. She intends to make a great many decora-
tions,” said Molly.

“Oh, yes! she wishes to use me—I see,” cried Elsie,
remembering their last interview, and her aunt’s cool
insolence.

“ But, Miss Elsie, pardon me :—I have been thinking
it would be better to be on good terms with these people.”

“The enemies of our country! This from you, Molly
Putnam !” cried Elsie, with real anger.

 

  
A FEMININE CONSPIRACY. 83

“JT would not have dared to say as much yesterday,
even to myself.”

“ But what has changed your mind ?”

“The fear that—that—” Molly looked down distressed.
“T may as well make a clean breast of it,” she added,
looking up and smiling through her tears, “the fear that
some one I loved might be in peril. I even was hold
enough to beg fora pass from the General, to visit the
hospital.”

“ Admirable, Molly !” cried Elsie, her eyes kindling
with enthusiasm. “TI see your drift. Is it possible that
you can really get into the hospital—perhaps go through
the camp of the Hessians ?”

“Ts it not worth trying ?”

“Yes, yes—anything,” cried Elsie, breathlessly, below
her voice. ‘Yes, yes, I comprehend—you are a better
strategist than I am, Molly. Tell my aunt she may ex-
pect me on the 23rd, and that I shall be happy to
do everything in my power. Indeed, I will please her ;
and, Molly, think what a great thing it would he to libe-
rate him.”

“Oh ! indeed, Miss Elsie, if we could do that, you and
T would be heroines for life. How shall we manage it?”

“T wonder if it would please my aunt if I came
directly ?’ mused Elsie.

“T think she would be delighted,” Molly made answer.

“Then T’ll do it. Molly, you must use your permit.”

“This very afternoon !” echoed Molly.

“ And then—you do not know him, though ?”

“JT not know Lieutenant-Colonel Washburn? Have I
not seen him at Walsingham House at least twice?”

“Prue enough; J had forgotten, Well, I trust to your
woman’s wit to find him.”

 

Cc

 
 

  

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“ Tl do it, or my name’s not Molly.”

“Good little Molly! Let us seal our compact with a
kiss. There ! now it is settled.”

“Yes, I’m to be a heroine, if I dic for it,” laughed
Molly.

“ Find out for me, Molly, if my aunt really desires me
to come, and send word by somebody at the house.”

“ Yes ; and, Miss Elsie, trust me but what I'll get you
some word from him. I’ve wit enough for that, at all
events.”

“ A thousand thanks, darling, till you can be better re-
paid. And now we'll go down and see the old pedler.”

“Ts he a spy?” asked Molly, fearfully.

“Whatever he is, my dear, he has the good of our
country at heart,” returned Elsie, gravely.

“ But, oh! Miss Elsie, if he is suspected, he will be
hung.”

“Don’t let that thought enter your mind again,” re-
turned Elsie. ‘With that make-up, I don’t think any
one could possibly suspect him ; besides, he has so much
tact and wisdom. Even his mother did not recognize
him, and I find it difficult, when he is disguised, to believe
that it is Captain Paul. At this crisis, my dear, men
must not shirk peril. Which had you rather lose, your
lover or your country ?”

“God help me to say—my lover,” responded Molly,
solemnly.

“Amen to that!” cried Elsie, with closed eyes, but
when she opened them, tears stood on the beautiful lashes.

At that moment a familiar voice sounded from the
wood. Both girls ran to the window. It was old Glan
Ratcliffe, as he was called by the loyalists, talking to some-
body across the road.

 

 

f>

 

  
 

 

 

 

ere

Sa

TRUE HEROISM. 35

“ A spy ! did you say?” cried the opposite voice.

“ That’s what they say now,” replied Ratcliffe—* papers
found upon him that'll hang him. Serves him right for a
fool. J always said Harry Washburn would come toa
bad end,”

Elsie withdrew her face. Death would not have altered
it. The two girls looked in one another’s faces; Molly
burst into tears.

 

“ Hush, Molly ; don’t you see how calm I am?” said
Elsie. And, indeed, the quiet of her voice and manner
was something fearful.

“Oh! Miss Elsie—it would kill you,” sobbed Molly.

“Tm not sure but it would,” replied Elsie, with that
same far-off look in her eyes; “but, now, we must re-
double our exertions ; we must move heaven and earth
but what we release him.”

“ Yes,” she murmured, “yes, I would even do that, to
save a life so valuable to his country. My God! be Thou
the friend of the friendless now !”

“ Molly,” she continued, “ not a word about this to any
one, not even to Captain Paul. What is sail to him I
will say myself.”

Molly promised silence, and, after a few moments, the
two girls went down-stairs together.

Paul would not let Molly go alone. There were squads
of drunken soldiers all over the town, he said ; and, though
he did not walk with her, he was still near enough to
keep her in view till she reached Walsingham House in

safety.

 
CAPTAIN MOLLY.

CHAPTER VII.
THE NIGHT AT VALLEY FORGE.

THE wind whistled along the gloomy banks of the
Delaware river, and seemed to moan with ever-increasing
violence at that part where Washington’s troops were
encamped. Here and there guards were stationed, but
the freezing air penetrated the worn-out clothing of the
soldiers, and their feet, frost-bitten and often bleeding
from the want of sufficient protection, left, in some places,
the traces of their suffering.

Washington sat in a large unfurnished room of a
deserted farm-house. Beside him stood an oaken table,
covered with paper. In the great chimney-place a huge
fire roared ; but he did not seem to be thinking of the
warmth. Indeed, the rattling of the windows was
simultaneous with the heavy, sweeping draughts that
seemed to penetrate every nook and corner ; to protect
himself from which, Washington had thrown an old army
coat over his shoulders.

At that period the Continental leader was nearer dis-
couragement than, perhaps, ever before or after. The
men were, many of them, dissatisfied and grumbling.
They were short of rations, short of clothes, and closely
under the surveillance of a large Royalist army. A large
body of the people could not sympathise with him, so
greatly were they influenced by the Tories. It was a
dark hour, as may be seen by the following extracts from
a letter lying at that moment unfolded. The pen with
which it was written stood on the rude rack, still glisten-
ing with ink :—

“Tf every nerve is not strained to recruit the army, I
think the game is pretty nearly up... . You can form

 

 
 

 

 

CAST DOWN, BUT NOT DESTROYED. oT

no idea of the perplexity of my situation. . . . No man,
I believe, ever had a greater choice of evils, and less
means to extricate himself from them.”

In one corner of the room, a sort of “shake-down”
had been made, and a soldier was lying there under his
cloak. It was one of the General’s aides, a Captain
Cuyler. Nearer the fire, his chair tilted back, his arms
folded, his brows contracted, sat another officer, a Colonel
Rest.

The two candles, one on the high, narrow shelf, the
other on the table, only added to the general gloom.

Suddenly Washington roused himself from. his reverie.

“ Tt’s a terrible night,” he said.

“ Terrible, indeed. Ice is making fast in the river. I
wonder when it will bear the weight of an army ?”

Washington smiled gloomily.

“T don’t think we shall stay for that,” he replied.

“Cornwallis is not thirty miles off, they say,” replied
the colonel.

“T don’t doubt it,’ Washington responded. “I only
wish we were the pursuing party, and the river before
them.”

“ Confound him !” muttered the colonel, still referring
to Cornwallis. “It isin vain to look for reinforcements;
the people will give us no help.”

“ But they will throw up their hats if we whip the
Hessians,” said Washington, grimly. “Here is Lee a
prisoner, and Reed a traitor, at least to me; while the
subordinate officers are quarrelling about promotion.”

“ We shall look back to these dark days, General, with
a little pardonable pride.”

“Yes, sir, we shall ;” cried General Wakiigin, as if

nerved with a fresh a “JT trust in God we shall. At

   

   
  
 
 
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
   
  
 
 
 
 
    

  
 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

all events, nothing shall be wanting on my part, in the
midst of every discouragement ; and we have discourage-
ments enough, God knows. The enemy must be in total
ignorance of our numbers and situation, or they would
never suffer us to remain unmolested. Sir William
Howe is expected, and Cornwallis is close upon us. Our
prisoners are suffering and languishing ; everything looks
dark, I admit, yet give me but a few trusty friends, and
I promise victory. Yes, victory; I feel it in every fibre
of my frame.”

“Your words are inspiriting, General.”

The door opened; one of the guards appeared. The
General motioned him to the fire, for it had begun to
rain, and every part of the poor fellow’s ragged uniform
was dripping.

“JT am sorry it is so bad a night,” said the General.
“ Well, you have some intelligence.”

“ A stranger has arrived, with letters and credentials,
who insists upon seeing the General,” said the soldier.
“ He is a foreigner.”

General Washington held a short conference with the
colonel, then ordered that the stranger be admitted. He
stood before him soon, a small, dark, keen-eyed Polish
officer. The General read his letter of introduction from
Dr. Franklin.

“ Sir, you come to us in the darkest time of our
history,” said Washington. ‘“ What do you seek here?”

The stranger drew up his form with a gesture of pride.

“ T come here to fight for American independence,” he
said.

Washington smiled. The straightforward answer
pleased him.

“ But, what can you do?”

 

>

a eg ee ame

 
  

  
A MIDNIGHT VISIT. 39

“ Try me,” was the quiet reply.

“ With pleasure,” returned the General; and, calling
a servant, he sent him up-stairs to assign quarters to
Kosciusko.

The storm grew yet fiercer. Gusts of snow and rain
swept against the windows; without was darkness and
cold; the almost freezing soldiers tried in vain to coax
warmth into ragged blankets; many of the tents were
displaced, and the sentinels had all they could do to keep
life in their stiffening limbs.

It was twelve o'clock by the old kitchen time-piece
when Washington laid down his pen and proposed to
retire. The servant came in and heaped more wood on
as the fire. Then he brought a couple of blankets and
something that looked like a pillow, and placed them
near the hearth, for Washington sometimes slept Indian
fashion, his feet toward the fire. It was a ghostly night;
unearthly voices sounded at intervals when the loose
blocks of ice in the Delaware came together with a crash.
The Delaware! so soon to bear on its bosom a freight
precious to freedom and history !

 

erent

CHAPTER VIII.
‘ LIFE OR DEATH.

Oxty the breathing of the sleepers could be heard
within ; only the tread of the sentinel at times, as the
wind brought in the noise from without.

Suddenly, in the distance, came the regular tramp of
horses’ feet. The soldiers listened, portending evil, but
before long the sentinels were relieved by the low spoken
talismanic word, which proved that the man before them,
wet and haggard, was one of themselves. His business,

 

 

 

   

 

 

   
  

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

he said, admitted of no delay—he must see General
Washington.

At the approach of this horseman, another than the
soldiers and sentinels outside had apprehended danger.
Some time after Washington had thrown himself down,
this man had half-risen, warily, and peered out into the
now brightly illuminatet room. A haggard, remorseful
expression marked his face, though he was young and
handsome. His lips were closely pressed together—his
eyes were gleaming and desperate. At one moment it
seemed as if he were about to rise, and the soldier on
guard at the door, turned his sleepy vision in that direc-
tion. The captain thought better, however, and by the
time the midnight intruder made his appearance before
Washington, he feigned a sound sleep.

Washington was a light sleeper. As he stood up to
receive the new-comer, he looked as fresh as if he had
rested for a night.

“ JT am Captain Green, of the 10th New Jersey Volun-
teers,” said the young officer, with a respectful salute,
“ Since noon to-day I have ridden from Trenton.”

Washington’s eye lighted.

“ The Hessians are there in considerable force, com:
manded by General Rahl,” continued the young man.
“ On the 19th, three regiments stationed near the
town, received false news that reinforcements were ex-
pected, The communication was regarded as coming from
yourself, and, with high hopes, they engaged a party of
Hessians, thinking they were isolated from the main body.
I regret to say that it ended disastrously to our small
army, and the Hessians completely routed the volunteers,
killing some, wounding many, and taking one prisoner of
rank—Lieutenant-Colonel Washburn.”

   
   
  
 
 
 
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
eee te

A COUNCIL OF WAR. ; 41

Washington’s brow clouded.

There was a quick movement opposite. Captain Cuy-
ler moved uneasily, muttering as if in sleep.

“ But worse than this, by some papers found upon his
person, he is condemned as a spy, and will be hung on
the 28th—the day after Christmas.”

“ My brave young friend!” cried the General, in a
suppressed voice. ‘ We must not allow this—murder—
for it is nothing less. Washburn was no spy.”

“ We are all ready to stake our lives on his innocence.
T have taken advantage of the peculiar state of things,”
continued Captain Green, with a significant smile, “ and
here is the result of my inquiries.”

He laid notes, and a small map, rudely outlined in
pencil, before Washington.

“‘ Thanks, my brave comrade,” said Washington; “ if
this service affects us favourably, your promotion is sure ;”
and seating himself, he called the colonel to his side.
The three sat there for an hour, and at the end of that
time Washington said :—

“ The blow must be struck then or never. We must
effect the crossing at Christmas. It will never do to let
those foreign rascals murder that honourable soldier. Re-
member that, for the time being, we are sworn to secrecy.”

“ How do you propose to cross, General ?” queried the
colonel.

“ Tn boats.”

“ Will it be possible ?”

“ Tt must be.”

“ We have some splendid sailors,” said the colonel.

“ Yes, the Marblehead regiment.”

An hour after this, complete silence reigned once
more in the old farm-house.

 

 
  

CAPTAIN MOLLY,

The fire had burned low, casting now and then fitful
flashes through the gloom. Washington slept soundly;
so, apparently, did all but the one man on guard, who
had much ado to keep his eyes open.

Presently the captain upon the shakedown lifted his
head.

* Donelly,” he whispered.

The man’s hand went to his slouched cap.

“There’s a bottle of whisky in the cupboard, and a
drinking horn. Bring them here, will you? TI feel ill.”

“ Sart’in, sir,” said the man, with another salute, and
he went softly for the coveted articles—his eyes now
quite bright and wide awake.

“Will you take some, Donelly? It will keep you
warm.”

“ Will I? Sure, you know I'll consider it a blessin’
this night.”

“ Well, here—one horn will do you no harm ; quick,
man,” and he poured out a large quantity, which Donelly
drank, ending with a satisfied smack, and crept back to
his place.

“Tf worse comes to worst,” muttered the young man,
in an undertone, “they'll say he had a fit—or that it
was him who tried it—or—great God! what a night it
is!” and he pretended to drink some of the whisky,
his hand shaking like that of a guilty coward all the
while.

The hours passed on, and the only seemingly living
thing in that room were the captain’s eyes, that now and
then glared fearfully. The poor sentinel, under the
influence of a powerful drug, lay crouched up against the
door. Washington’s face and head were bare, and some-
how the thin flame that now and then lifted itself up

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
  
  
   
 
 
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
 

Xs

  
 

A MOMENTOUS MOMENT, 43

makily from the half-spent embers, fell upon his noble
face—the grand brow from which the thick hair swept
naturally ; the calm greatness of the man’s countenance
was most impressive in this awful period.

For on that hour hung the balance of America’s fate
as a nation.

Captain Cuyler had become passionately enamoured of
a beautiful English girl, at that time residing in New
York. The infatuation of her only brother—as she called
it—had led him to forsake his family and join the
American cause. For this, and for other reasons, her
hatred of the Continental army was intense. She had
inspired this young American captain with an almost
idolatrous love, and after playing fast and loose with him
for months, at length consented to reward him with
her hand, if ever he succeeded, by fair means or foul, in
ridding the country of its great father and patriot—
Washington.

Imagine, then, what hellish thoughts must have
possessed his mind! How, day after day, he had been
nerving himself for this dastardly deed, till his reflections
were all of blood—his dreams of murder.

And now the time had come. ‘Treachery was abroad—
treachery within. The darkness had an awful meaning to
him, Should he bring that upon his soul for which no
repentance could possibly atone ?

The winds without muttered and moaned. There was
a voice in every cadence. Their very whispers were as
evil portents to him. Did spirits ride abroad on their
fearful pinions? Were there awful, unseen agencies
within his very grasp? As the time approached he shook

with apprehension. Had remorse seized upon him so \.
oon 4

 

 
  

44 GAPTAIN MOLLY.

There, at his mercy, lay that august head. There, at
the point of his steel, trusting and pure as ever man’s
purposes could be in any righteous cause, lay that noble
heart. Again and again he turned away his head, as
that thin, white dagger of flame gleamed upon the
features of the commander whom all men loved. Across
his memory rushed all the kindly words that he had
spoken, all the noble deeds that he had done. Should a
woman’s smile and a home of grandeur weigh against
these ¢

“My God! how can I!” the young man groaned, in
anguish.

“ But I cannot lose her,” and again the hand of treachery
was uplifted.

“T choose between my country and my own selfish
love ;’ not in just those words did the thought come to
him; nevertheless it did come. Suddenly one blast,
shriller than all the rest, seemed to whistle in his ear the
word :—

“ Murderer !”

He started back, glaring over his shoulder, thrusting
his long dark hair from either ear ; his eyes dilated as
if with madness. And there came a vision before him,
with awful distinctness—the portrait of a memory—a pale,
sweet face—pale, sad lips, that called him lovingly—eyes
frosted by death, yet beaming tenderness upon her boy—
the memory of a dying mother. Quick as thought he
sprung to his feet.

“‘T will not do this deed !” he cried. ‘i swear by my
Maker and my honour, I will not! Better misery—life-long
—hbetter death !”

“What is it? The voice was Washington’s, who
waked as easily as he slept. ‘Sentinel, are you there?’

    

  
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
   
    
 

 
 

 

 

  

THE DENOUMENT. 45

“ Here, sir,’ replied the young captain, who now stood
before the sleeping soldier.

“ All right !” said Washington, drowsily, and, uncon-
scious of the dreadful tragedy that had been contemplated,
he sunk again into slumber.

Rousing himself in the early morning, Washington
was surprised to find young Captain Cuyler, who was a
favourite of his, standing in place of the sleeping soldier.
He was pale and ghostlike, for a night of intense mental
suffering had acted fearfully upon his sensitive tempera-
ment.

“What does this mean?” asked Washington; “is
Donelly dead ?”

“Dead tired, General,” answered young Cuyler. “T
pitied the poor fellow, and took his place.”

“You assumed a peculiar responsibility, young sir,”
replied the General, in a voice which he tried to make
stern. ‘ However, it speaks well for the goodness of your
heart.”

The sleeping sentinel was roused with difficulty, and,
half dead with terror, besought the captain to exculpate
him, and his tremour was scarcely allayed by the assur-
ance that Washington knew of it, and had forgiven him.

The day had scarcely waned when, among the letters
brought to camp, was one by a famous scout, directed to
Captain Cuyler. The young man received it with apathy,
for the handwriting was not what he expected.

He opened it—then sat glaring, his eyes wide and white
with agony.

Miss Letty Washburn was dead !

On the receipt of news that her brother was a prisoner
and condemned to death, she had been seized with con-
vulsions, and died almost instantly.

 

  

 
  

46 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

Where now would have been the reward for his
treachery? A fugitive and a wanderer had he been this
hour—a skulking vagabond ; the murderer not only of a
man, but of a nation !

No wonder that within twenty-four hours there were
silver threads in the dark hair. That baptism of sorrow
made him old before his time.

 

CHAPTER IX.
THE FAIR CONSPIRATORS

To go back and take up the thread, broken for the
introduction of this episode.

Molly was received at Walsingham House with
rapture.

“So Elsie is coming? I have been fretting over an
expected refusal. Why, little Molly, what charm have
you? I never dreamed you would succeed.”

“T think she wearies of this continued strife with her
family,” said Molly.

“Poor child! and, after all, she is not so much to
blame. Her father brought her up, and all but laid his
dying command upon her. I wish she would only be a
little more reasonable,” said Lady Walsingham.

“She will be, perhaps, after this.”

Lady Walsingham could have kissed Molly. The
young girl always had been a favourite, and Lady Wal-
singham, who had been raised to fortune and a title from
the ranks of the people by virtue of a pretty face and a
wonderful ambition, had no life-long prejudices to sacrifice
in making this pretty country maid almost her equal.
Besides, old Father Putnam was a rich man, and put his
daughter there because, in his foolish old heart, he

    
  
    
 
   
  
 
 
   
  
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   

 
THE “ PERMIT” OBTAINED. 47

thought that she might have advantages that would
favour the formation of genteel manners. He wanted
his girl to be “a lady,” he said. So when Lady Wal-
singham, who had come from England only some two
years previous to attend to business affairs, which her
husband formerly had managed, saw, and took a violent
fancy to sweet Molly Putnam, he consented, at once,
that she should take the position offered, though not for
wages. ,

“ Now I can make your heart glad,” said Lady Wal-
singham. ‘“ Here’s a permit for you to visit the hospital.
It was brought by a delightful Hessian, who spoke
barbarous English, in which, putting together words
enough to make a long harangue, I could only distinguish
two of them.”

Molly’s eyes glistened.

“ But will you want to go alone, child? I think I
had better send Joe with you. He is so silly that nobody
will be afraid of him, but he thinks so much of you that
he could protect you.”

She rung the bell. Another moment, and Joe Stupid,
as the servants called him, a half-witted boy, stood upon
the threshold.

“ Joe,” said Lady Walsingham, “you're to gc to the
hospital with Miss Molly here.”

“Won't I though? was Joe's delighted answer.
* Ain’t I grateful? Wouldn’t I go to Chiny with her ?
Don’t—”

“That will do, Joe. Go and get ready, and be sure
you follow her closely, and keep silence.”

“ Won't I though? Ain't I—’

“There, there, Joe—no talking: hurry, or Miss
Molly will go without you,”

   

 

 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
   

 

 
  

48 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

Joe was goon ready, and following Moily so closely that
he seemed to be ambitious to tread in her particular foot-
steps. The old church stood ina sort of open area. On one
side it was quite hemmed in by thickly-set pines; on the
other only a wide field bounded the vision.

Molly showed her permit, and was allowed to enter.
Both Joe and herself bore baskets, the boy’s being one of
large dimensions.

The interior of the church had been stripped bare of
seats, and rudely-constructed cots and beds laid all
around. At first, Molly thought she never could have
the courage to enter. The sight of so many pale faces,
so many appliances for surgery, so many grave severe-
looking officers, particularly the surgeons, who seemed to
frown upon her, disconcerted her terribly. However,
she mustered up courage at last, and, finding out to whom
she might distribute her delicacies, she was soon busy
among both friends and foes.

There was nota familiar face among them, and she was
not allowed to speak to her own countrymen. How
should she get access to the camp, for that was now her
solicitude? If she spoke to the officers, they chose not to
understand her, and probably they did not, for, among
them all, only one might have been taken for an English-
man by the purity of his accent, and that was General
Rahl, who was nowhere visible.

Molly prolonged her visit to the hospital as long as she
dared. As she left the building, General Rab! was just
then dismounting at the door. He recognised Molly at
once.

“So you came ; and are you satisfied that a hospital is
not as pleasant a place as a camp?’

“ How can I tell, unless I had seen a camp?’ Molly

 

  
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  

 

   
“UNDER DISTINGUISHED PATRONAGE !” 49

innocently inquired, and she smiled very pleasantly at the
General.

“ Would it please you to see a camp ?”

“Oh! very much,” cried Molly, with enthusiasm.

“Then, if you will wait here one little moment, your
servant can hold my horse, and I will myself accompany
you.”

Fortunate Molly—to have for an escort no less than
the great General Rahl! But Molly did not think of
the distinction ; her soul was engrossed in the plot of
which she was continually dreaming. To become a
heroine in a good cause was the sole ambition of her life.

Presently the General came out, and they walked along
the main road together.

“You are—did I understand—a relation of Lady
Walsingham ?” he inquired.

“T am a friend of Lady Walsinghanys, sir, not a re-
lation.”

“Ah! I mistook. Lady Walsingham is a beautiful
woman.”

“ She is indeed, sir, but you should see her niece.”

“T have seen Miss Elsie Vernon.”

“That is she—the loveliest creature I ever knew.”

“Lovely, indeed, but unfortunately our inclinations
diverge in such a manner as to render a close acquaint-
ance almost impossible.”

“ You mean, sir—”

“ That she is a rebel.”

“ Now, I think you are mistaken, General Rahl,’” said
Molly, quietly.

“ What! is she not a violent anti-Royalist 7

* Not as violent as she might be. She has modified
her opjnigns somewhat.”

 

 

 
  

 

50 CAPTAIN MOLLY,

“Since when?’ and the General looked eagerly in
Molly’s eyes. :

“Since very recently, I may say. The truth is, it is
not pleasant, living in a constant broil with members of
one’s family.” :

“ Indeed, I should think not,” murmured the General,
absently.

“ And she has concluded to live at peace with them.”

“ A wise conclusion,” he answered.

“ Tt may be that she will ignore the Republican cause
altogether,” said Molly, going in her zeal much further
than circumstances warranted, or her friend would have
approved.

“T believe I understood that the young lady was re-
siding with Lawyer Asbury, who is her uncle.”

‘She was there,” said Molly, “but she is expected at
Walsingham House for a long visit.”

A gleam of pleasure crossed the General’s face.

“So she will probably grace the entertainment on
Christmas night.” a

“ Undoubtedly,” said Molly. “I think if she had been
there to-day, I might have been tempted to trespass upon
your generosity. I know she wishes to see both the
camp and the hospital.”

“ Nothing would delight me more than to show them
to her,” said the General, with the enthusiasm of a lover.
< Will you say so, from me? It will give me the keenest
pleasure.”

“T will say so, and I am almost certain that she will
accept. But oh! here is the camp. Why, it is like a
little city !”

“ Our military ideas of order are very strict,” he said,

smiling.

  
  
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
THE PLOT WORKING. ol

“ And pray, have you any prisoners?’ she asked, care-
lessly. “Tt seems to me I heard of some.”

“ Only one of any note, and I fear it will shock you to
hear that he is under sentence of death.”

‘Dear, dear! that is terrible,” said Molly, with a sud-
den pallor, that, however, escaped his eye. “ Pray, what
has he done? TI did not know that you always shot your
prisoners.”

“‘ Neither do we, except in cases like this. If we find
a spy, we do not shoot, we hang him.”

“Oh! that is more awful still,” cried Molly, involun-
tarily placing her hand to her throat; “ you are cruel,
you are barbarous.”

“So I dare say we seem, but it is not so. It is the
rules of war—a spy is hung almost without judge or
jury.”

** But you could save him.”

“Oh! the pardoning power lies with me, of course,”
said the General, “but I would not exercise it in such a
case as that. It would be a dangerous precedent.”

Molly was silent for a few moments ; something seemed
to rise in her throat and choke her.

“Do you hang them right away ?’ she asked, in a low
voice.

“ Sometimes—but we have given this young man
grace. He will not be executed till the day after Christ-
mas.”

Molly’s face brightened.

“Tm sure that you can feel no sympathy with the
enemies of the King,” he said, a moment after,

“Oh ! of course not, but it would be so—so interesting
to see a prisoner under such circumstances !”

“ Why, that is a little bloodthirsty.”

 

 
 

  

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“ And if Miss Elsie and myself should visit the camp
again, I think, I am almost sure, it would afford her
pleasure, also.”

“To see a man under sentence of death? Well, you
shall be gratified if you bring Miss Vernon here, I promise
you. But I am afraid it may make you morbidly sen-
sitive. The young man happens to be interesting, and
handsome, too.”

“Oh! we'll promise to be very proper,” replied Molly,
with great difficulty concealing a break in her voice.
What would she have given could she at that moment
have allowed free vent to the tears that were crowding
up from her heart.

It was not long before Elsie and she were closeted to-
gether, laying plans that were no sooner formed than they
seemed impossible to undertake. But they were brave as
well as tender spirits—those two gentle girls—and did
not despair.

“ Hiven should we see him,” said Elsie, “we cannot
communicate with him.”

“ Did you say once that he had a dumb sister?” asked
Molly.

“Yes, he has two sisters—the youngest, a child, is
dumb.”

“Then, of course, he knows the deaf and dumb alpha-
bet.”

“ Oh, yes! I have often seen him use it.”

“ And so do I!” cried Molly, joyfully. ‘My mother
could only talk by signs two years before she died, and
that compelled her to study it.”

“ Molly, you are my angel !” said Elsie, fervently.
“While the attention of the others is turned another
way, you could certainly contrive to say a word or two.”

   
  
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
   
 

  

WASHBURN AWAITING EXECUTION. 53

“Tam sure I could,” said Molly. | “ Now, suppose it
to be one word. What should you choose?”

“ Hope,” said Elsie.

“ And look—it is said,” laughed Molly. “ We shall
save him !”

 

CHAPTER X.
PEDDLING TO SOME PURPOSE.

THE prisoner had, meantime, abandoned the delicious
feeling portrayed by that word, hope. He felt that his
doom was drawing near.

He had been placed in a small house on the outskirts
of the camp, under a strong guard, and there passed his
solitary hours. Jt was hard to stare death in the face
thus, and he so young ; hard to feel that liberty not only,
but life were denied him. And he was imnocent—not
. of the charge of fighting against the King, but of being a
‘spy. Unfortunately he had accepted the effects of a
brother officer, who had gained some special information
of the enemy’s whereabouts, and these were found upon
him. He had not thought of them until they were dis-
covered, and then whatever explanations he made were
disbelieved, so he maintained a haughty silence.

His room was very small, the windows overlooking the
camp, so that he wearied of the scene, His thoughts
tuned backward. He had voluntarily deserted his
family for the sake of the cause for which he was to die
ignominiously. His proud sister, he knew, considered
that he disgraced them all. Yet he was sure that if she
heard of his present situation, it would nearly, if not
quite, cause her death.

Yes, the past was continually before him. He had

 

  

 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
   
 

 

 
  
  

 

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

become acquainted with Elsie Vernon, only to love her
with the fondest and purest affection ; and now, almost
within sight of the house where he had first seen her, he
should die a disgraceful death.

How the hot blood dyed his forehead as he went over
the imagined preliminaries in the horrible scene! And
yet his heart swelled with a human sorrow that he should
never again, perhaps, see the woman of his love. He
had heard some vague hints relative to General Rahl’s
admiration of the beautiful Miss Vernon, but he knew
her too well to suppose that she reciprocated the least
favour,

“Tt would be pleasanter to die in my bed,” he mur-
mured, looking toward the burning west; “it would be
glorious to fall in battle; but to be strung up like a
common criminal—that is too terrible, and for a crime of
which I am not guilty.”

As he was saying this, little Molly was just parting
from the commander outside the entrance of the camp.

Presently he heard voices.

“ Tt’s that little Dutch pedler, again,” said one of his
guards, “He has some very nice things, and very cheap.
I shouldn’t wonder—” and he made a motion as if in the
act of drinking.

“ Why can’t he come in?’ asked the elder and stouter
man.

“ Against orders,” was the reply.

“ Nonsense! He’s only a pedler, well known about
here, I presume, and a furious Royalist.”

“ How do you know?”

“We met him, this morning, a party of us, and he
talked just right. It it wasn’t for a lame arm, he says,
he should be with us, but that makes it impossible.”

   
  

 

THE PEDLER IN THE CAMP. 5d

“ Oh! let him come in,” exclaimed the other. “We
want something to break the monotony of this place.
There’s no danger to apprehend.”

The young officer, who stood moodily gazing from the
window, knew enough of German to make out that they
were interested in the pedler, and he could not help
turning as the man came in. It was a careless scrutiny,
however—he had never seen the man before, but the
change was a relief. He was tired of the two burly
guards.

The pack was set upon the floor ; the pedler looked
warily round; his eye caught that of the lieutenant-
colonel, but it was stolid and dull as ever.

Presently he opened his budget, displaying trinkets
of all sorts. Red silk handkerchiefs lay in fine contrast
to white clay pipes. Meantime he rattled on in German,
praising the beauty of his wares, offering them at a price
almost next to nothing, and that must have been con-
siderably below the cost of even very inferior articles.

Among other things was a showy pocketbook, with
silver clasps, which took the fancy of the elder Hessian.

« That’s a beautiful thing,” said the pedler, in German,
“and so cheap, You mark that inscription there; and
the crimson edges match your top-boots, See!’ and he
held them against those appendages.

The Germans gravely inspected it.

“ What does it say?” asked the younger one.

“ Ah! you would be glad to know. But, perhaps,
you want me to think you don’t know English,” he said,
his countenance changing.

They protested, each of them, that they did not under-
stand one word of the language.

By this time the prisoner was quite interested, in spite

 

  

 
 

 

56 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

of his apathy, and was even straining his eyes to make
out, if possible, what was written upon the pocketbook.

“ Then first I will read it in English,” said the pedler,
“and afterward translate it ; what say you?”

“ Agreed!” was the answer.

The pedler lifted himself, stood with his back to the
window, so that the light fell on the pocketbook, and
enunciated, softly and distinctly :—

“Yam Captain Paul Green, of the 10th New Jersey
Volunteers. Having heard that my superior officer was
in danger of his life from a false charge, I decided to
leave Trenton to-night for Washington’s camp, and find
some means, if possible, to liberate him.”

It was well that young Washburn stood partly in the
shade, for the strong emotion that almost shook his
frame—the thing coming so unexpectedly upon him—
changed his face to a death-like pallor. Then rosea flush
of deepest joy and gratitude; he leaned heavily against
the wall, for his strength seemed to have deserted him.

“Well, boys, now do you want the inscription in
Hessian ?” cried the pedler, turning a comical glance to-
ward them, never haying trusted himself to look at the
prisoner.

They both assented, and the pedler continued ;:—

“This pocketbook has a charm imparted by the seventh
son of a seventh son, aud will never be empty while the
first purchaser carries it, if it be for forty years.”

“ You see it contains already a small sum of money,”
he said, opening one of the pockets and displaying a Ger-
man copper coin. “Oh! I assure you, he who gets this
will have a bargain.”

Both men became immediately desirous of possessing
this talismanic purchase, and, for a time, there was quite
 

 

 

 

 

HOPE ENKINDLED. aT

a little war of words; nor was it finally settled till the
pedler proposed to toss up the coin and thus decide.
Having followed his suggestion, it fell to the lot of the
elder Hessian, who paid his money, and seemed as de-
lighted as a child with a new toy.

Having completed his mission, the pseudo-pedler de-
parted, still denying himself the pleasure of a parting
glance with the lieutenant-colonel, whose heart was, for
the first time, in a slight degree hopeful. He remem-
bered Captain Green, a handsome, bold fellow, with the
courage of a lion, and his captivity seemed robbed of half
its terrors. For the first time since his imprisonment, he
slept soundly. that night, after thanking God with a full
heart.

CHAPTER XI.
“OH MOST WOEFUL sicHT !”

Tr still wanted nearly a week of Uhristmas. Lady
4Valsingham had, however, set all the confectioners and
bakers to work. Cards of invitation had been issued,.
and most of the prominent people of Trenton were in
vited, and looking forward with great expectations to the
promised entertainment. Seamstresses and dressmakers
were all engaged; parties had been sent to different
points to collect flowers for decorations, and Walsingham
House began to wear a gay and festive air.

Elsie had been as good as her word. On the afternoon
that Molly spent in the hospital, she had been driven
over and received by her aunt with a great show of cor-
diality, which was not all assumed.

“ And only think, my dear, some of those charming
oflicers will be here almost every evening, I declare ’m

 

 
 

58 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

half in love with that splendid Hessian General myself-—
I am indeed ; and if I were only a little younger—ah !
me,” and she sighed and laughed at the same time.

“ Or, if I only had a thin waist,” she continued, as her
niece resigned herself to what was as unwelcome as it was
inevitable, “I do believe he would fancy me. I expect
you will make quite a sensation, my dear, and rob me of
all my conquests. Well, it’s but right, I suppose. I’m
the fruit and youre the blossom, and a very charming
blossom, too.”

That evening General Rahl made his appearance with
one of his staff. Never had Elsie appeared more radiantly
beautiful. Her dress was like a summer cloud, so float-
ing and ethereal. She looked scarcely a being of earth,
as she came in, in assumed spirits—her cheeks delicately
flushed, her eyes far exceeding in splendour and depth of
colour the finest diamond.

If the General had any heart to lose, it most assuredly
left him quite on that evening. His passion assumed a
most serious character, and her graciousness made his
bewilderment all the greater. He certainly never had
looked for such kindness from her hands. She addressed
her conversation to him—she dazzled, she captivated, she
conquered, at once and entirely.

Molly might have been there, but she pleaded indispo-
sition and had retreated, for the pedler had sent a little
package by Elsie, and in it was a letter that Molly read
and re-read many times that night, and kissed more than
once, it may be guessed.

Elsie had surprised Molly by her high spirits that night.

“Did I wake you, dear?” she cried. <‘‘ Well, it’s to
hear the good news. I was not to tell you till after eleven.
Where do you think your brave captain is?”
  

  

CAPTAIN PAUL ON HIS MISSION. 59

Molly started up all in a tremour.

“Silly child! didn’t I tell you it was good news?”
laughed Elsie. “ Well, then, heis on his way to Washing-
ton’s camp ; and, by this time, is across the river.”

“ The dreadful river !” shuddered Molly. “How could
he cross? It is not frozen over.”

“ Don’t you fear, little girl, but what he will manage it.
He is such a bold, dashing spirit that I almost fell in love
with him myself,” and she sighed and murmured :—

“Poor Washburn! Dear—dear Harry !”

“The General asked me to visit the camp with my aunt
and yourself, to-morrow. Molly, we must manage to see
him,” she said after a long pause.

“YT dare say we shall,” said Molly. “And I have
thought of a plan.”

“What is it?”

“T can’t tell you to-night, because I have not quite
finished it.”

“Very well ; to-morrow will do.”

“One little knows what to-morrow will bring forth,”
replied Molly, sleepily.

“True ! one little knows.”

That to-morrow brought the General in style. A dash-
ing barouche drew up to the door. Elsie shuddered as he
gallantly took her hand to help her in. He was very
chatty and pleasant during the short drive, entertaining
them with stories of his campaigns.

They alighted at the camp. Elsie was now pale and
anxious. She almost doubted her powers of self-control.
How should she act in the presence of the man she loved
and wished to save? What might he not suspect, seeing
her in company of the Hessian General? If, by any
means, he could be got to remain behind! She hardly

 

 

   
 

  

CAPTAIN MOLLY,

saw what was passing before, around her, so absorbed was
she in painful thoughts. She hardly heard the language
and exclamations of her escort, and, at last, he noticed
her languor. His fear that she was fatigued brought ani-
mation back, but it was only galvanic.

At last Molly broached the visit to the prisoner.

“Jt is his hour for exercise,” said the General. “It
may be as well to appear on the ground as chance
visitors.”

Elsie found it harder than ever to control herself. She
had not thought much of how they would meet, only how
she desired they might. It seemed to her that it would be
in a room, or a tent, but this thrusting herself upon his
notice as a total stranger under the escort of the man who,
he must be cognizant that she knew, had condemned him to
death, seemed needless cruelty. No chance for a commu-
nication, then. She felt a bitterness toward her aunt,
who had refused the arm of the General in her favour, and
under a pretext of keeping her long dress from soiling,
she dropped his arm with an apology as they passed along.

“Yes; yonder he is with two guards,” said General
Rahl, and Elsie felt her very heart grow cold as they
neared the place, and saw the tall, handsome figure of the
lieutenant-colonel, between two stalwart Hessians.

Nearer they came and nearer. The prisoner kept his
eyes on the ground, apparently determined they should
see he did not wish to be made a spectacle of.

“TJ thought I remembered the name,” cried Lady Wal-
singham. “Why, General—” a warning pressure and plead-
ing look from Molly stopped her. The General had half
turned—at that moment the prisoner looked up ; his eyes
encountered the pleading, almost passionate glance of the
woman he loved. It was impossible for him to control

 

  
 

    

A DISTRESSING SCENE, 61

himself. He started with a gesture of surprise, and an
exclamation escaped him. The two guards instantly
assumed a threatening aspect. Elsie grew faint with ap-
prehension, and caught at the General’s arm for support.

“ Miss Vernon,” he said, “TI had no idea the sight of a
prisoner would affect you like this.”

“Tt is the thought—that—he is to die,” she half gasped.

“ Ah! I dare say ; but we cannot reverse the decision
with anything like honour. By the laws of war, spies
are always executed.- The commanders on the other side
would have no mercy on me, if I were caught in the same
offence.”

“ But are you sure he wasa spy?’ asked Elsie, in a low
voice, that faltered somewhat.

“He has been judged and not acquitted,” said the
General, impressively. ‘His judges were fourteen of
the best men in my command. But you are very much
overcome by this visit, Miss Vernon. I regret that you
came.”

“T regret it myself. My temperament is a sensitive
one, and I solemnly assure you I would do much to com-
mute that man’s sentence.”

“ Impossible,” was the grave reply, and they returned
home silently.

“We have failed,” cried Elsie, “and something tells
me that all is to end disastrously. Oh! Molly, what
evil spirit tempted me to go?”

“ Who would have dreamed that we should see him in
that manner in the presence of all those soldiers ?” Molly
exclaimed, half pouting. ‘ Even as it was, I attempted
the alphabet, but he had no eyes save for you.”

“Did he look at me again?” Elsie asked, mournfully.
“T had no heart to notice, ’

  
CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“ Indeed, he did! such a glance that brought the tears
into my eyes. He really did not seem glad, ay I thought
he would.”

“Can you wonder?’ exclaimed Elsie, passionately,
clasping her hands.

-“Tndeed, I thought he would be pleased,” said Molly,
simply.

“Don’t you comprehend ?” cried Elsie. “ Suppose you
were under sentence of death, unjustly, and you should
meet your best friend in familiar companionship with the
man who had signed your death-warrant ?”

“Well, to be sure, I didn’t think of that,” said Molly,
thoughtfully. “The fact is, I was so anxious to do my
part that I noticed little else. But there is time, dear
Miss Elsie ; can we not try again ?”

“Oh, Molly! there’s a dead weight on my heart,”
cried Elsie, bursting into tears. “I can’t conquer the
impression that I have brought ruin upon the man of all
the world I love the best. Oh! it was brought home to
me so terribly ! Death by the hangman’s hand—just as
they would kill a murderer. It is awful ! it will kill me.”

“Tt will do neither him nor yourself good to take on
in that way,” said Molly. ‘TI tell you there is plenty of
time yet—trust me. I will devise a way to rescue him.
It only needs a brave heart and a determined will.”

“Oh, Molly ! don’t try to comfort me; not a word you
say gives me comfort.”

Molly held her fingers up and telegraphed the one little
word she had designed to force upon the attention of the
prisoner.

“Do you forget,” she said, gently, “ that Captain Paul
has gone over to the American army ?”

Elsie shook her head. She forgot nothing, she said;

  

 

  

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a a ae on

  

  

LAWYER ASBURY’S PARTY, 63

but that terrible impression remained—a cloud covered
her very soul, and she could not see through it.
“Tt is silver-lined, nevertheless,” said Molly.

CoH AcP vie Xs hale:
THE BETRAYAL.

Some ten or fifteen officers sat at supper. The table
was furnished with a splendid silver service ; glass and
silver sparkled everywhere. Lawyer Asbury always
gave sumptuous entertainments when he undertook any-
thing of the sort. He was a good German scholar—his
wife was of German descent; so there was no difiiculty
on. the score of conversation, save to poor little Miss
Lydia Lavoy, who, padded, painted, and furbelowed,
stretched her long, lean neck hither and hither, and
opened her faded, glassy eyes to their widest extent, as if
that would help her in the mysteries of High Dutch.

“ Does he mean me to take wine with him?” she cried,
excitedly, to her hostess, who was babbling in an unin-
telligible language to her.

Mrs. Asbury nodded, and the poor passé belle acknow-
ledged the compliment by sundry shrugs and nods, as she
simperingly drank with a handsome young lieutenant.

“T say, Asbury,” a middle-aged man who sat near the
centre of the table called out, “ have you heard the latest
news?”

“About what?’ asked the lawyer, who was disturbed
in a tete-a-tete with General Rahl, and felt rather cross
about it.

“Why, there has been a_ strange-looking German
pedler about here for a day or two. Did any of you see
him ?”

 

  
CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“T did,” volunteered Miss Lydia Lavoy. “I never
heard of such prices !”

“Who do you suppose they say he is?” queried the
middle-aged man again, ignoring Miss Lavoy, whose
tongue was aching from its long confinement.

“* How the deuce shouid I know ?” answered the lawyer.

“Well, it’s pretty weil understood that it was Captain
Paul Green, the widow Green’s son,” returned the middle-
aged gentleman, who had grown quite red in the face.

By this time Mrs. Asbury had become interested.

“That accounts !’ she exclaimed, exchanging looks
with Miss Lavoy.

“ Accounts for what?’ asked the lawyer, in the tone he
always assumed in addressing women.

“ For the questions he asked. I saw him talking to the
servants, the impertinent ! and sent him off. But it is
impossible it could be young Captain Paul Green, who is
quite a handsome fellow, while this man was small, ugly,
and almost humpbacked.”

“T have it from the best authority,” said the middle-
aged gentleman, who, now he had turned the attention of
the whole table toward himself, was slowly subsiding from
crimson to his accustomed complexion.

“Pray, what did he question you about? asked the
lawyer of his wife.

“ About affairs of which I knew very little, and, there-
fore, I could not answer him. Miss Lavoy had a long
talk with him, however.”

“Tam sure, I hope you won't think, gentlemen, that:
Tam in the habit of talking with every chance pedler
who comes along,” said Miss Lavoy, in considerable con-
fusion, and addressing the staring Hessians, as if they
understood every word she was saying. ‘Iam not sure

 
A STARTLING DISCOVERY. 65

that I can quite recall what he did talk about, though
chiefly, I think, it was the people at Walsingham House
and Miss Elsie Vernon.”

“ What the deuce had he any business with the name
of my niece ?” queried the lawyer, in high dudgeon. “TI
wish I had heard him, I’d have kicked him out of the
house.” :

Miss Lavoy was trembling now, for she really was
afraid of Lawyer Asbury.

“ They say he got into camp, too,” continued the de-
lighted middle-aged gentleman.

“In camp? Oh! no,” responded the Hessian com-
mander ;” our rules are very strict. No wandering
pedlers allowed within the limits.”
~ “He most certainly did go there,” continued the un-
suspecting middle-aged gentleman, “ for I have a German
girl in my house who knows all about it, and he held
communication with the condemned prisoner.”

“Tt is a lie!” cried General Rahl, with an oath, for
which he instantly, though hotly, apologized. ‘“ Nobody
meddles with my guards; they know it is as much as
their life is worth.”

The middle-aged gentleman prudently held his tongue.

“T assure you that the man they speak of is a dare-
devil,” said the lawyer, under his breath, to the General ;
“and what makes me think that this rumour may be
true, is the significant fact of his speaking of my niece,
Miss Elsie Vernon. It is not known by everybody, of
course, but happens to be by my wife and myself, that
Miss Vernon is engaged to Lieutenant-Colonel Wash-
burn. I repeat, I should not wonder if there is some-
thing in it, or if my niece is at the bottom of the affair.
Why, sir she is such a confounded rebel, that she left my

D

 
  

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

house for the house of that vagabond’s mother, the widow
Green—she did, indeed, sir; and, possibly, she may have
seen the Captain there—in the guise of a pedler, of course
—and they together hatched some plan. She’s a deep
girl.”

Not once had Lawyer Asbury glanced toward his guest
as he sat making this ruinous speech—ruinous to all
the hopes of the fair girl under discussion. Mrs. Asbury
did, however, and wondered in her simple heart what the
lawyer was saying to make his guest frown and turn
pale like that—yes, actually pale, and gnaw his yellow
moustache.

“ It’s frightful to see the man,” she said to herself;
“ what can he be saying to him ?”

“ So, so!” said the General, when he had found his
voice ; “so, so!”

Something strange in the accent induced the lawyer to
look up, and for the moment he was appalled. The
Hessian’s eye seemed rimmed with blood; a fierce and
angry flush darkened his features, and all but distorted
his countenance. ‘Two or three of his officers, who knew
that look, leaned back in consternation.

The General gulped down several glasses of wine, picked
at the table-cloth in an absent way, but in a few moments
had calmed himself.

“So the fair Miss Vernon is really engaged to my
spy!” he said, with an attempt at a laugh, which set his
officers busy with the dainties before them again.

“T have no doubt of it myself,” said the lawyer, but
his voice was not so even as it had been, He began to
wish the middle-aged gentleman, who had volunteered
the news, as far down in the Atlantic ocean as it was
possible to be deposited. There was something so cruel in

 

  

 

 
 

 

 

 

 

“THE PRISONER DIES TO MORROW!” 67

this suppressed passion of the man who was smiling
beside him.

“€ She will lose her lover,” said the General.

“ Well—it will serve her right,” responded the lawyer
““T have often told her she was no niece of mine, sup-
porting these rapscallions and enemies of their King. It
will serve her right—of course, it will.”

* Muehll, if we find our orders have been tampered
with,” said the General to one of his colonels, “ the
prisoner dies to-morrow.”

The lawyer’s cheek turned a shade paler. At that
moment he felt very much like a murderer. The beautiful
face of hig niece seemed to stand before him, pale and
bathed in tears.

Meantime the Hessian commander was secretly nursing
his revenge. Now he saw through it all, His teeth
came together as he remembered the interview, or what
was scarcely that, between the prisoner and his fair
charge.

“ By heaven!” he said to himself, “J have been
duped, but they shall pay dearly for it—very dearly.
Yes, yes, I see it all, and the little girl is a hypocrite
too! Perhaps they all are, Lady Walsingham into the
bargain !”

Then again he went over the scene in the enclosure—
the half-fainting condition of Elsie—and, as he now re-
membered, the perturbation of the prisoner.

“ By heaven, he shall be hung to-morrow, at sun-
down,” he muttered to himself, and Lawyer Asbury heard
it. For the first time in his life he felt something like
remorse.

The dinner went off rather soberly after that, for

the General could not rally from the blow that had so
D2

 
  

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

unwittingly been given him. He grew moody and
reticent. His nature had in it all the elements of
revenge; and, surely, if anything could work them up,
it was the feeling that he had been duped, in connexion
with the violent passion he felt for the beautiful Elsie,
whose charms had nearly turned his head, and quite
conquered his heart.

After dinner there were cards, and a little music, and
a little, nay, considerable, scandal. Miss Lydia Lavoy,
remembering her belleship of many, many, years ago, tried
to flirt with one and another—those who knew some little
of English preferred.

“ You like this country?” *she asked of a red-faced,
shock-headed German, whose hair took a tinge many
shades more fiery than that of any individual present,
and who had a habit of sending it standing all ways by
thrusting his hand through it lengthways, crossways, and
otherwise.

“ Yaas—I likes it mooch as if dar’ vas no snow,” he
replied, with a cheerful.shove through the flame above
mentioned.

“ You don’t like snow,” said Miss Lydia.

“ Nix,” and he shook his head almost ferociously,
« And I like not de beeples.”

“The beeples—beeples?” muttered Miss Lavoy, inquir-
ingly. ‘“ Might you mean—”

“De beeples, yaw—dat ish it, vat you haf’ for kings—
you call dem,” he put in, ‘“T no likes dem, not much—
dey is not goot fighters, I no tinks, Dey ish not got ,
uniforms—not’'ing at all, vat you would call like soldiers.
Nix. I not like de beeples—de—heeples of this coontrie.”

“ Have you ever been to Lady Walsingham’s?”

He shook his head.

 

 

  

 

 
 

THE TETE-A-TETE, . 69

“Don’t you think our ladies are handsome ?”

“ Ah!’ he smiled most graciously, waving his hand in
a graceful manner, ‘“ de-cideedlees !”

Mrs. Asbury was, meantime, arranging the table for
cards, and making herself very agreeable, while her Tory
husband followed the General, that he might find a chance
to speak to him in private.

“W oulditplease you to smoke, General?’ asked Asbury,
as at last he cornered him. “TI have some fine cigars
imported expressly, and the smoking-room is quite private.
If you prefer it, there are pipes and tobacco at your
service.”

The General thought he would smoke. Asbury rung
and ordered some punch or other exhilarating beverage,
and then escorted the General to a beautiful little apart-
ment, fitted up quite in original style, the hangings and
furniture of which had been imported. Here were pipes
and cigars—smoking caps and slippers—pouches of tobacco
—a tray, decanter and glasses, everything to please the
fancy and minister to the taste.

The General sat down, but he seemed ill at ease. He
tried a cigar and then a pipe, but seemed little satisfied
with either. After frowning and making some little
preliminary speech, he exclaimed :—

‘So Miss Vernon is your niece.”

““T regret to answer, yes,” replied the lawyer.

“ And a rebel.”

“T regret to answer to that, also, yes.”

“ Pray, how does it come that she is with Lady
Walsingham? She does not seem to be affected by the
notions of the common people.”

“T really cannot tell you,” said the lawyer, “what are
her reasons, or what are Lady Walsingham’s intentions.

 
 

   

70 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

Indeed, I have scarcely thought of her at all. She was
very violent, and I dismissed her from my mind.”

“ She is an orphan?’ queried the General, fiercely.

“Yes, General, and I regret to say that her father was
a rebel before her, and instilled all kinds of free notions
in his daughter's mind. I assure you I have tried my
best to counteract these teachings, but she is incorrigible.
Why, General, when some of the bare-legged troops of
Washington and Lee were hereabouts, I have known her
to walk ten miles to carry such things as woollens and

refreshments. Ah! I can assure you it is in the grain; .

but, General—”

The latter looked up, moodily.

“TJ said she was engaged—the—matter may be broken
off—I’m not certain.”

“Tt is not likely to be broken off since she was there
to see him,” returned the General.

“ What ! the prisoner ?”

“The prisoner,” was the sharp reply.

“ But—lI don’t understand.”

‘Through courtesy, of course. Your charming niece
pretended to be a Royalist, and I admitted her to the—
place of imprisonment.”

“ Just like her,’ muttered her uncle, “ and that little
plotter they call Molly was with her, most likely,”

“Yes, she was with her.”

“ A cunning, pert little piece, the daughter of a farmer,
who, to do him justice, is loyal. I wonder Lady Walsing-
ham could consent to take her into service, for after all
it comes to that. The little wench is pretty, you see, and
smart, so that my sister is taken with her, and allows her
to do anything. But, General—I think we understand

each other.”

  

 
 

“WE UNDERSTAND EACH OTHER.” G1

“What the deuce do you mean?’ queried General
Rahl, with some asperity, not being in the best of humours.

“ Elsie, though an obstinate girl, is possibly an ambitious
one.”

The General listened, moodily, as before.

“T think I could bring her round.”

“Ah!” ejaculated the General, looking more animated.

“Tf you are particularly interested in her—why—”

“T am particularly interested in her,” said the General,
*‘T am very much interested in Miss Vernon, or was. I
would have made Miss Vernon my wife. But she has
acted with double dealing—with treachery worthy of a
rebel. I am disappointed—very much disappointed,”
and the German puffed yet more furiously.

“ Never give up,” said the lawyer, whose spirits rose at
this declaration, “women change their minds ; they only
want to be followed up.”

The General shook his head.

“ Miss Vernon has been guilty of duplicity, as I said
before.”

“ Because she considered you her enemy.”

“ Because she loved that condemned rebel,” and the
General bit at his cigar furiously.

“ Because it was very romantic,” said the lawyer.
“Depend upon it, a woman’s heart must be taken by
storm—she must be followed, pursued, if you please.
This fellow must be made to act an important part.”

“ Ay! by releasing him ?”

“ No—by playing upon her fears. If you will do as I
say—lI will do as you wish. Her wish will be to have
the sentence commuted—don’t you see! She’sa handsome
girl, is Elsie.”

“ And you are a lawyer,” laughed the General, who

 
  

  
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
   
   
 
 
   

er

72 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

had evidently taken heart. ‘Yes, yes, Miss Vernon is
very beautiful. I believe I'll think over your advice:
But I confess I was savage when you first intimated this
matter about the officer under arrest. I felt as if I had
been ill-used, and am not half sure yet but that I was.
However, we will say no more about it. I am much
obliged to you for your interest—particularly as you have
given me renewed hope.”

Seeing things under a more cheerful aspect, the General
began to notice the really beautiful apartment, and soon
entered into a discussion upon the comparative merits of
German and English ideas of comfort. When they
descended to the parlours, several of the officers had gone,
but Miss Lydia had contrived to keep the fiery-headed
lieutenant at her side—much against his will.

 

CHAPTER XIII.
THE NEWSMONGER’S CALL.

A grey, gloomy day. Even Lady Walsingham caught
the infection of dulness, and sat yawning, while Molly
read to her. The room was what at Walsingham House
was called the reading-room. It was lined very cosily
with red, the furniture being of the same material and
colour.

Elsie sat knitting some ornamental covering for the
head. In the next room certain dressmakers were very
busy with rich fabrics, and the cheerful hum of their
voices could now and then be heard.

Elsie had never looked so charming, albeit the colour
had faded from cheeks and lips. A certain suppressed
pain in the lovely face only added to the interest to her
appearance.

   
      

 
 

“

MISS LYDIA LAVOY’S VISIT. 73

“What a terrible day!” cried Lady Walsingham,
suddenly. “Throw down that book, Molly—it’s very
tiresome. Not that you don’t read well, my dear, but it’s
insufferably dull. Oh, me! I wish somebody would come .

. and bring some news.”

“ You're likely to have the first part of your wish,
aunt,” said Elsie, “for I think I see the Asbury carriage.
Perhaps it’s Aunt Emma.”

“‘ T don’t care who it is; anybody will be welcome to-
day,” said Lady Walsingham, implying broadly her aver-
sion to the lawyer’s wife.

The carriage stopped at the gate—something in the
likeness of a woman got out and hurried up to the door,
the coachman holding an umbrella as she walked.

“Upon my word, it’s Miss Lydia Layoy !’ cried Elsie,
half laughing.

“ Mercy !” was the startled exclamation of Lady
Walsingham. “ What can the creature want ?’ ‘

“Oh, but, aunt, you said anybody would be welcome.”

“She’s nobody,” returned the lady, pettishly. “ Molly,
youll have to go and sce to her, I suppose.”

Molly stirred, not reluctantly, for she was not un-
willing to see and hear something of this small piece of
affected humanity; and in a few moments returned, with
the prinking, smiling damsel of fifty, who with a youth-
ful step and childish levity of manner, approached Lady
Walsingham.

“ You know I’ve been threatening,” she said playfully,
shaking the lace handkerchief she carried, “I threatened
to come and stay with you a whole day. And, dear Lady
Walsingham, if there’s anything I can do, pray set me to
work. I’m very handy, and my friends are pleased to
commend my taste. My charming Miss Elsie, and how

 
  

74

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

are you to-day?” she cried, tripping up to that young
lady, and holding out a withered hand, that was still very
small and white. “And oh! my dears, I’ve such news ?”?

So saying, she threw herself down on a great chair
which Molly had placed for her, and totally ignored, by
her position, all idea of the work she had asked for.

“ Well, you must know, my dear friend, Lawyer Asbury,
gave a dinner-party yesterday.”

“Oh! we knew of that,” said Lady Walsingham.

“Very true; I don’t doubt it. It was a dinner
exclusively for gentlemen, you see, and a very grand
affair. I must say that Mr. Asbury understands how to
give an entertainment of that kind the best of anybody it
was ever my good fortune to know. Bless me! what a
splendid thing !”

This exclamation was called forth by the entrance of
a dress of crimson velvet, with a dressmaker behind it,
and quite hidden by its broad folds. Lady Walsingham
despatched it as goon as possible, and then composed her-
self to listen. Elsie was sitting now, with hands crossed
on her lap, her eyes fixed on vacancy, or, at any rate, not
appearing to see any object before her.

“ Well, you must know the General and his staff were
present—bless me! nothing more than a knot of stupid
fellows, that is, to me, who could talk no German, and
only sit andlook on. Besides, what was there to hinder
me from making awkward mistakes ?

“ Well, presently, do you think, somebody broached
the idea that Captain Paul Green—that widow’s son, you
know—had been seen about. Mercy, child !” she added
addressing Molly, “how you jumped !”

“Did I?” asked Molly demurely. “No wonder ; I
pricked my finger.”

     
    
    
  
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
    
 
   

 

 

 
 

 

 

 

   

A STORY AND ITS EFFECTS. 5)

By this time Elsie had laid down her sewing, and was

gazing no longer on vacancy, but at the little atomy,
“with a strange expression in her dark eyes.

“Yes ; they declared that he was about as a spy, in a
pedler’s dress, and if it was him, I saw him, and, what is
more, bought some of his trinkets. I thought he made
himself uncommonly free with the names of people here-
abouts—particularly yours, Miss Elsie.”

“Mine !” echoed Elsie, faintly.

“Yes; and then the same guest declared that the
pedler, or captain, or whatever he was, had been in
camp, meddling with the prisoner, and you should have
seen that Hessian’s face as he thundered No! But
the man insisted, and then Lawyer Asbury told some story
or other to the General. I don’t know what—and by
the way, they say he is only General by brevet; that his
real rank is that of colonel—however, a blacker or more
fieidish face than he presented at that moment [ never
saw. He turned pale and then purple—upon my honour
he did, and gnawed his under lip, until I really thought
he was going to have a fit. It was terrible to see, and all
the officers seemed to feel frightened—at least they
looked so. By-and-bye he cried, with clenched hand—oh!
and I forgot to tell you he swore, and gave the lie direct
to his informer, which wasn’t very gentlemanly—and
then, says he, turning to one of his staff :—

“<Tf we find our orders have been tampered with, the
prisoner dies to-morrow ! ”

A deathlike stillmess succeeded this communication.
Elsie sat erect, like a piece of white marble, Molly had
turned her head away ; her arms hung lifeless.

“'T'o-morrow—to-morrow ! why, that means to-day
It was the voice of Elsie ; but it sounded so unnatural

 

  
  

 
  
 
 
 
   
   
   
  
 
 
 
 

CAPTAIN MOLLY,

and far off, that even Miss Lavoy started at its ghost-like
echoes.

“Oh, Miss Elsie!” cried Molly, a piercing anguish in
her voice, “ Could they have hung him this morning ?”

“ God knows !” was the reply, in that still sepulchral
voice.

Molly gave a wild sob; Lady Walsingham frowned.

“See how you have set these children off with your
improbable stories !” she exclaimed in real anger. I
don’t believe a word of it, Hlsie—that is—pardon me, Miss
Lavoy, I think you misunderstood.”

“TJ will pardon you, because I believe [ have hurt and
frightened you all; but I am not used to have my word
doubted. I tell you I heard exactly what he said; and
then, after that, I distinctly understood him to exclaim,
‘He shall be hung to-morrow, at sundown!’ J am sure
who he meant, and I know by his face he will do as he
said.”

“ Elsie has fainted !” screamed Molly, rising up, wring-
ing her hands.

“No, I have not fainted,” said Elsie, speaking with
difficulty. “Excuse me—I—find I must leave you.”

She arose, and leaning on Molly’s arm, dragged herself
from the room.

“Tm very sorry you should have told that dreadful
story,” said Lady Walsingham. “TI believe my niece had
a particular interest in Lieutenant-Colonel Washburn.
It is an awful death to think of.”

“But, indeed, I only told it as a piece of news,”
returned Miss Lydia, bridling. “1 think, if I am to be
considered a bird of ill-omen, I had better go back, and
I would if I had not ordered Tapley to come at five.”
“Oh, there is no necessity for that,” returned Lady

   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 

  
 

 

 

  

17

 

“THERE'S MANY A SLIP.”

Walsingham ; “you are very welcome ; only I didn’t like
to think of that poor man.”

“Pray don’t think of him, then. But, my dear friend,
I believe I made a conquest last night. I really believe
I did.”

“ Ah! you have made a great many conquests in your
life, I suppose.”

“Indeed I have, Lady Walsingham,” returned Miss
Lydia, bridling, “although I never took advantage of
them, I may say my conquests have been too numerous
to remember. I never shall forget the dear, fat old
count, when we were at Marseilles. You should have
seen him go down on his knees to me, and me having to
help him up—the ridiculousness of the affair! But, then,
perhaps, you never knew that I did come very near
getting married once.”

“No, indeed ; I never heard of that.”

“Of course not, for it was years ago; but I did. Ah,
he was the handsome man for one to see—the handsome
man. Nothing can I liken his eyes to but diamonds—
so bright, and clear, and beautiful! I was but a child
then—a mere child, and was, of course, captivated by
his good looks. But he pretended to have immense
estates, and was so rich! and he presented me with
diamonds and precious stones, and my trousseaw was all
ready, real point-lace, and everything to match ; real
orange flowers, too—nothing sham; and the cake was
made, the wine ordered, the cards out, the bridemaids all
come from long journeys—fourteen of them—the presents
ready to display—and oh dear! it really makes me faint
to think of it.”

“Did he play bo-peep, and get locked up in a meal-
chest?” laughed Lady Walsingham, indolently.

  

  
    
   
 
  
 
  
    
   
   
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
   
  
   

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“No; I wish he had, for there would have been an
end of it, and an honourable death in the bargain. No,
no,” and she shook her head pathetically; “my father
found him out.”

“Found him out?!”

“ Yes ; and what do you think he was?”

“Some nobleman’s valet, passing himself off for the
real thing ?”

“Oh, dear! no. He was a pedler—a miserable pedler,
and all the diamonds were paste; and you can’t think
how that fellow who came to our house the other day
reminded me of him. I couldn’t resist the temptation
of talking to him, it recalled so vividly the memories of
past days.”

“From that time I dare say you have voted all men
deceivers,” said Lord Walsingham, repressing a yawn.

“Yes, yes, there are so many looking after a little
fortune, you see, that it has made me shy. But, Lady
Walsingham, don’t laugh if I tell you that I really did
like that—that fellow; and if they hadn’t driven him
out of town, I might have been just romantic enough

 

{

to run away with him. Oh! he did have such eyes !
“ Handsome as your new conquest last night?” Lady
Walsingham did not conceal her yawn now. The day was
dark, Elsie had gone away and in sorrow, and the mono-
tonous, affected voice of Miss Lydia gave her the blues.
“ Handsome! laws me ; did you ever see a handsome
German?”
“Oh, yes, plenty of them,” was the reply. ‘ General
Rahl.” Miss Lydia shook her head.
“ Not to my liking. Dear, dear, who is that laughing
so?’
“ The servants, I think,” said Lady Walsingham,

 
 

 

b

A FORTUNE-TELLER AT THE HALL. 79

At that moment one of the girls come in with a note,
which Lady Walsingham read and put aside.

“What are they laughing at, down in the hall?’ she
asked.

“ A fortune-teller,” replied the girl, on a broad grin.

“ A fortune-teller !”

“Yes, sure. It’s an old man came to the gate, askin’
for bread or some’at to eat. So he said, would we like
to have our fortunes told? And cook said she’d give him
some dinner for it. So he’s been at it, mum.”

“ An idea!” cried Lady Walsingham ; “just the thing
for this horrible day! Tell him to come up. You have
no objections, Miss Lydia ?”

“Ta! no!—I’m sure,” was the nervous reply. And
the girl was despatched below with orders to bring up the
fortune-teller.

Lady Walsingham bestirred herself. It was so good
to have a new sensation, with the dull rain coming down,
and the dull face of Miss Lydia staring at her opposite,
and the dull feeling generally that things were going
wrong and she couldn’t help it, that her spirits brightened
somewhat. She gave a little fling with the duster, that
sent an extra flare of yellow flame up the chimney ; she
re-arranged a marble shepherd on the mantel-piece, and
almost hummed aloud, when the door opened, and there
entered a man of a somewhat suspicious appearance,
looking about him as if astonished to find himself in the
midst of such splendours and luxuries. An old man, with
keen, bright eyes, long, grizzled locks, and dressed in a
faded blue blouse and faded brown trousers.

“So you tell fortunes, my good man?” said Lady Wal-
singham.

* Not much need to tell your fortune, my lady.”

 
 

  

80 CAPTAIN MOLLY,

“And why?”

“You carry it in your face, my lady,” with an admir-
ing look.

Oh! nonsense!” But she flushed, and seemed pleased.
“Well, how is it done? Do I cross your hand with
silver ? or do you tell by my hand and then I pay you?’

“J will see your hand.” She held it out.

“Ah! fortune here and beyond the sea; a marriage with
one you love. No trouble—every happiness. He will
be tall, with black eyes and hair.”

“ And my fortune !” cried Miss Lydia, with a smirk.

“Ah! he is coming,” laughed the man, “ He is not
tall; he has light hair and he loves you very much.
Riches, of course.”

“Mary,” said Lady Walsingham to the girl, who stilt
lingered at the door, “tell Miss Elsie and little Molly I
want them.” :

Only Molly came, distress in her face—came to excuse
Elsie and herself. On the instant, seeing the old man, a
strange light brightened her face—an expression she
tried to control and darken. Her lips trembled; she
seemed undecided,

« And your fortune,” said the voice; “hold your hand
out.”

She obeyed, passively,

“ Tt ig all coming right!” said the old man, looking her
steadily in the eye—“ everything. Do you understand?
There is trouble here—but it will be lightened soon.
You are feeling bad, thinking somebody is going to die ;
he will not die, if it is a man—she will not die, if it isa
woman.”

Molly felt herself growing strong, taking hope. She
knew who was under this disguise—knew what the vague

 

yp

  
 
   
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
   
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  

HOPE EVER. 81

words meant, and, running laughing up-stairs, while Lady
Walsingham paid the man, she cried, hysterically, burst-
ing into Elsie’s presence: “I have seen Paul, and Paul
will save him!’ But Elsie would not be comforted.
“ But I have seen Paul; I knew him ina moment. Be
sure he has heard all about it.”

“No, never, that he is to be hung so soon. Don’t
speak to me, Molly; I shall go distracted, I know I shall.”

“But I know Paul will do something,” said Molly,
half beside herself at the frantic way Elsie went on.

“ Don’t say Paul to me again,” retorted Elsie. “You
must be out of your head. If it had not been for him,
this never would have happened. Remember it was his
going there and being found out about it that incensed
General Rahl. Don’t speak of it again—don’t mention
Paul’s name.”

Molly felt hurt, but forbore to comfort her for a long
time, knowing that it was grief made her seem unkind.

CHAPTER XIV.
THE SACRIFICE.

“ Ou! Miss Elsie, indeed, you must not give way so;
it may not be true,” cried Molly, when Elsie began

 

mourning again.

“Tt is true, Molly. Oh! my God! it is true! My
uncle must have told him all. He would have felt a
particular delight in doing me an injury of that kind.
Oh! how cruel! how cruel! Molly, I have taken my
last look at him. His noble face, so pale, so accusing,
will haunt me for ever. Oh! that cruel, cruel Hessian !”

Elsie had thrown herself, in very agony, on the floor,
by the bedside, and lay crouched there, white and tearless.

    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
   
    
  
    
   
   
   
     
 
   
   
    
  
 
 
    
  
  
  
 
   
   
  
 
 
   
 
   

 

 

CAPTAIN MOLLY,

She had not heard Miss Lavoy’s correction, that the
soldier was to be hung at sunset, for at that instant she
had nearly fainted.

“ Molly, I doubt not he lies dead even now, stretched
on some cold floor. Oh! the thought distracts me! Why
could I not have known? Could not some good and
pitying angel have told me in my dreams? I would have
tried to see this wicked General. I would have begged
the boon of his life on my knees. Molly, I would have
sold myself for him. Oh! I would! I would!”

“ Miss Elsie, you don’t know what you are saying,”
groaned Molly.

“JT worshipped him so—I worshipped him so! God for-
give me, he was my idol ; and even then he did not seem
half so dear to me till now. Ob! my love! my love !—.
my dead, dead love !”

“ Miss Elsie, oh! what can I say to comfort you?”
wailed Molly, at her wits’ end with sympathy and grief.

“ Nothing, nothing; don’t try. Let me mourn by my-
self—let me die. Indeed, I cannot support this burden
and live.”

“ How do you know he is not living?” asked Molly.

“ How do I know? You heard her say yourself that
he was to be hung to-morrow. How gratify his base
purposes better than by putting him out of the way as
soon as possible !”

“Tf she did, so I heard her say that he spoke again,
and declared he should be hung at sunset. You were
faint, perhaps, and didn’t hear.”

“ T was faint one moment, Everything seemed passing
from me—her voice and all. Oh! Molly, are you sure
she said that?’

“ Sure,” repeated Moily.
 

  

“THE GENERAL IS BELOW-STALRS.”

“ Then there is some hope.”

“ Yes, while there is life,” replied Molly.

“ What shall we do?” and Elsie lifted herself from the
floor. “Something must be done. What shall we do?”

“ T wish I knew what to advise,” said Molly; “ but do
you know, I think he dare not do such a thing.”

“ Oh! darling, these Hessians know no mercy. How
can you think it? I cannot help seeing from this man’s
actions what he thinks of me; and, God forgive me, I
have led him on, I fear, hoping that I might help him.
Now, jealousy is added to his other base passions. Till
sunset,” she added, “ till sunset.’ Oh! the precious hours !
they must not be lost! We must manage to get to the
camp, Molly—we must see the General; suspense will
kill me. He must not die!” she cried, with passionate
fervour. “ Oh! my God! this once grant me his life !”

A. servant knocked.

“ My lady’s compliments,” she said, with a low curtsey ;
“ General Rahl is below stairs.”

“Ts not your prayer almost answered?” cried Molly,
the tears in her bright eyes, as the girl went out.

“ Oh! it looks like it. Yes, he has come, and we did
not hear,” continued Elsie, going to the window. “ There
is his horse. J must see him alone. Oh! how shall I
plead !—what shall I say?”

“ Don’t fear, my dear Miss Elsie,” whispered Molly.
“The words will come; let me help you. What are you
doing?”

“ Looking for another dress,” was the reply, with a
haggard smile. “I wish to appear my best before this
awful Hessian, Am I very pale? How shall I hide the
traces of tears?”

«They’ll all be gone before you go down. There, now,

 

  
   
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
  

 

 

   
  
     

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

I’m sure I should never know. It’s a dark day, you see,
and there’s no great light comes in those windows, with
the curtains down. God help you, my dear Miss Elsie ;
Pll pray for you every minute.”

Elsie went down slowly, very slowly, wondering
whether her aunt was there, and if she could command
herself sufficiently to control her emotions if there should
be no hope.

General Rahl met her, swuwve and bland, as usual. If
he noticed the trembling of her hand, he did not appear to,
and she suppressed the loathing his presence occasioned.

The conversation, in the beginning, was on ordinary
topics. Not the first time that the mere praise or blame
of a day has covered a heart: break.

“ Miss Elsie, I have come on a strange errand,” at last
spoke the Hessian.

Elsie’s pulses were flying now.

“We may not have a great while to stay here,” he
went on, “as Sir William Howe is expected soon, with
fresh troops, and that will necessitate a movement on
our part. We shall hem the American army in and
crush this rebellion before another spring.”

Everything now was subordinate in the mind of Elsie
to the effort she wished to make for the life of young
Washburn, or she would have sprung indignantly from
her seat and hurled her defiance upon the enemy of her
country ; but this was not the time, = a life so dear
trembled in the balance.

“ Miss Elsie, I do not know how to make love,” he
said, immediately after, with a gesture of embarrassment.
“JT ama plain man in my way, but I have never seen
the woman yet to whom I could so truly say, ‘I love
you, as to you.” .
   

 

85

 

THE GENERAL DECLARES HIMSELF.

Elsie was silent; her eyes were downcast ; her soul
was in array against every word he uttered.

“ General Rahl,” she said, “ I will be frank with you;
my heart is no longer in my own keeping.”

“ Ah! it was true, then,” he muttered, his heavy
brews coming together. “And I, Miss Elsie, will be
equally frank with you; you are aftianced to a con-
demned criminal.”

Her eyes shot fire.

“ To a hero, who will die a martyr and a patriot !”
she cried, all the love of country uppermost at that
moment.

“T have to wish you a good morning,” he said, and
there was either actual sorrow or a sneer in his deep
voice.

“ Oh, General Rahl !”—she stood before him, barring
his progress, beautiful and in tears. He paused.

* You will not be so cruel,” she cried; “he never
injured you. Oh! if you love me, as you say, you will
never be so cruel.”

“TJ can and will be—not cruel—but just. The man
has friends who may have been in communication with
him. He must die.” ;

These words he said almost savagely, and as if between
his closed teeth.

“What can I do to save him!” she cried, wringing
her hands. ‘“ What can I do, General Rahl?’—and she
made a motion as if to fall upon her knees, but he
saved her the humiliation, by leading her almost forcibly
to a seat.

“JT pity your anguish, Miss Vernon, but your lover
is doomed.”

“ Who told you he was my lover?” she cried,

  

  
 
    
   
    
 
    
   
   
  
  
  
  
  
 
  
    
 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“ Do you deny it?” and he looked her steadily in the :
face.
“ General Rahl—you are very cruel.”
“So you have said once before ; but it rests with you
entirely. J make this concession in pity to your feelings.
Whether this renegade is your lover or not—it rests with
you whether he is hung in eight hours, at the setting of
the sun,” :
“ With me?” cried Elsie, staring at him vaguely.
“ Hntirely with you. I have told you that I love you
If you wish to save him, become my wife.”
“ Now—so soon? Iam bewildered ; you can’t say now.”
“ Not this moment, certainly, as I am a consistent
Churchman, and no preparations have been made. But ,

soon, certainly.”

“ And that will save him?’

“ T pledge my honour as a soldier, that will save him.”

“ You will not hang him at all?”

“ He shall not be hung.”

“ But soon, you say—how soon ?”

“TJ should like it to be on Christmas night, at this
party of your aunt's?”

“No, no,” and she almost gasped, “not on Christmas
Hl night. My father died on a Christmas night—my only
sister died on Christmas night—no, no—not then ;” she
shuddered as she spoke.

“The next day?” he pleaded.

She caught at the respite.

“Yt is so soon—and I am so unprepared!”

“You need make no extra preparations——yourself is
all I want. Am I answered?”
| “ And Lieutenant-Colonel Washburn goes free?” she
queried, tremblingly.

 

 
  

 

A MARRIAGE OF CONVENIENCE,

“T did not say that—-I said he should not be hung.”

“ Or shot ?”

“ Miss Vernon, you press me close,” he said, after a
pause; “do you doubt my word of honour as a soldier?”

He had turned pale.

“You have said so often that, by the rules of war, a spy
must die—not that I consider that he isaspy,” she added
a little haughtily.

“And have I not also said that the pardoning power
lies with the Commander-in-Chief?”

“ But you have not told me he shall not be shot,” said
Elsie, calmly.

For a moment a glance of rage kindled his eye. He
seemed to reflect.

Since you doubt my sincerity, Miss Vernon,” he said,
again, ‘“ I tell you he shall be neither hung nor shot. Is
that sufficient ?”

“ Tt is,” said Elsie, who felt herself growing cold as he
drew near her.

« And I may depend upon your promise ?”

She drew herself up proudly.

“JT shall neither run away nor take poison, General,”
she said, with a firm voice. “If-you are willing to
wed me after the assurance I have given you, I shall
fulfill my promise if you come for me on the day after
Christmas.”

“T certainly shall come,” was his response. ‘ Farewell.”

He had the good sense not to kiss her as they parted.

Molly met Elsie at the head of the stairs.

“ Has it ended well?’ she asked.

“We shall see,” was the cold response.

“ Oh! Elsie, what has happened? What makes you so
ealm and so cold?

 

  
     
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   
 
  
  
  
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
   
    

 

MOLLY,

 

CAPTAIN

“YT am go cold,” said Elsie, shivering. ‘“ Lead me in—
I believe I have almost lost my strength.”

Molly led her to the fire.

“ [t is very foolish, but I believe my teeth are chatter-
ing,” said Elsie, with an attempt at a laugh.

“Oh! Elsie, you frighten me,” cried Molly, with a
shudder,

“ Don’t be foolish, Molly; you ought to rejoice—I
have saved him !”

“Saved him! But, good Father! how white you
look—there—I won't say a word, if it distresses you.”

“Ym to be married the day after Christmas, Molly—
wish me joy .

“Oh! Elsie—I’m crying, instead. Not till the day
after Christmas?’ she suddenly exclaimed. “ Glory,
hallelujah.”

“Why, what is the matter with you ?’ and Elsie turned
with some interest in her hitherto passive face.

“Matter with me—why! youre both saved, to be
sure. Isn’t it on Christmas night I’m to carry out my
little plan? To be sure itis. After Christmas—thank
God on your knees that it’s not before.”

Elsie shook her head.

“JT don’t see anything in it, Molly; I don’t see any-
thing but sacrifice, and then, perhaps, death.”

“Pooh !” cried Molly, with energy—* sacrifice and
death. Nonsense! I tell you there’s no danger that my
plan will go wrong; only try to be cheerful—try to
believe in me. I’ve not quite perfected my little plot,
but it’s a good one. Now, depend upon it—you’ll be
Mrs. Washburn before youre Mrs, Rahl. Mrs, Rahl—
pah! what a name! It never shall fit you, that I’m
determined on.”

y?

 
  

 

LIGHT IN THE DARKNESS. 89

Elsie could but take courage from the energy with
which little Molly discussed her plans. After all, matters
were not as bad as they might be. Sunset would not see
the body of him she loved dangling like a common felon
from a tree ; and, by Christmas, something might ensue
to prevent the dreaded consummation.

“ It’s the best thing that ever happened, that poor old
spinster coming here to day,” continued Molly. ‘ Sup-
pose you had not heard the news?”

“ Heaven knows what might have been the con-
sequences !”

“ And so do I,” cried Molly, pertly ; “ Mr. Hessian
would have been snubbed, and have gone home with a
death-warrant in his eyes, while youd been none the
wiser. I’m going down to cosset that old maid, out of
gratitude.”

 

CHAPTER XV.
CAPTAIN PAUL'S RUSE.

“ Arrer incredible hardships, mother, here I am;
make the most of me, for I shall only stay to-night.”

The speaker's garb and the speaker’s voice seemed
strangely incongruous. The one was firm, cheerful, youth-
ful—the other decrepit, careless, and more like a beggar
than anything that had a home.

The man stood in the midst of the large room. Every
curtain was down, every shutter shut, the doorway was
locked ; extra precautions had been taken, so that the
widow’s house, standing out there that bleak night,
amidst the bare, skeleton-like trees, seemed quite
deserted.

But it was not. On the contrary, the pleasant parlour

 

  
 

  

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

seemed full of a golden vitality. The flame in the
chimney-place was steady and yellow, and sent light
everywhere, from corner to corner. Tabby, the great
tortoise-shell cat, blinked and purred, and sometimes
moved her comfortable quarters to others not less com-
fortable, taking a circuit round the new-comer’s legs, and
rubbing lovingly against them.

In the middle of the room stood a table, covered with
a snow white cloth, and set with ancient china, which
the widow’s sailor-husband had brought home years ago ;
honey in the centre; wheaten loaf next; yellow butter ;
crisp, whitish crullers; well-cooked and cut ham, and
now the widow’s woman came out of the kitchen, bearing
tea-urn and hot biscuit.

“ You used to scold me for being such a mimic,”
continued the figure, lifting a bunch of grizzled hair from
his head, to which was attached, somehow, a string of
false beard, “ but you see it has served me in good stead.
Remember how I used to take you off, Hannah?’ he
queried, turning to the woman, who was smiling at his
odd appearance.

“ Don’t I?’ was her response; “ and how I tried to
pay you for it, many’s the time.”

He laughed heartily at the recollection of his boyish
scrapes, and soon stood before them—Paul Green—a
handsome, stalwart, and yet lithe young man.

“ Ah! the scrapes are not quite ended yet,” said the
widow, sighing, and smiling; ‘no knowing what they
will bring thee to yet.” ‘

“To honour, mother mine. You should have seen
Washington when he thanked me. Why, there was
promotion in the very curve of his lips. Ill be lieu-
tenant-colonel yet, please God.”

 

  
  

 

CAPTAIN PAUL AT HOME AGAIN. 91

“ And how does Washington stand it?” asked the
widow. -

“ As nobody but himself could,” was the reply:
“ Trouble doesn’t seem to wear him down in flesh. His
eye is as calm, and his countenance as genial as ever,
He's a trump, is our General !”

“ And how does he think the war is going ?”

“Oh! he is always hopeful, though he doesn’t say
much. There’s no doubt but we'll pull through, and
drive these scurvy fellows from our shores. But oh! the
poor soldiers! I wish I was rich, mother.”

“ Ah! a many of us wish that, but wishing does no
good. It seems sad to think that most of the wealth is
on the side of our enemy. There’s Lawyer Asbury,
rolling in riches, they say, and Lady Walsingham going
to give such a Christmas as never was given here yet,
costing thousands, perhaps, while our poor soldiers perish
with cold. Indeed, I do wish I were rich; but, alas! as
I said before, wishing does no good. But sit down, child,
and take some supper.

The child—somewhere near six foot, and of propor-
tionate breadth, sat down, but seemed even more inclined
to talk than to eat.

“ What’s become of thy appetite ?” anxiously asked his
mother.

“ Why, to tell the truth, I do believe I’m not hungry,”
he said, leisurely buttering his bread, “for I took a late
dinner up at Walsingham House.”

Both Mrs. Green and Mrs. Green’s woman stared at
him, after this speech; the latter, always privileged in
the pariour, knitting away at the side of the fire.

“ What do you mean, my son?’ asked widow Green,
“T mean what I say; I was at Walsingham House,

 

  
  

92 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

and the cook gave me some dinner for telling the maids’
fortunes.”

“ Now, if I ever!” cried the pleased sewing-woman,
rapturously holding forward the stocking she was busy
upon.

“ But what for there

“Oh! I had a purpose,” said Captain Paul, blushing a
little.

“« To see the girl, of course,” said widow Green’s woman,
nodding.

“Yes, partly that. Mother, what a pretty little thing
Molly is ; don’t you think so ?”’

“ Well, middling,” said the widow, gravely.

“Oh! now, mother, be honest ; say that she is almost
as handsome, though without her grand way, as Miss
Elsie herself.”

“ A pretty thing—a pretty thing,” said widow Green’s
woman, nodding again. “But, I should think you would

y

be afraid of being caught.”

“ Not much; though there’s a rope ready for me, say-
ing I should be. Now, mother, none of that,” for the old
lady had put her apron to her eyes. “ Wait till it hap-
pens before you ery for me, and when it does, I'll give
you full leave. But that'll never be. I can outrun the
‘ swift gazelle’ himself, and cheat the—well, I won't say
who, before present company. But, I tell you, I rather
like Lady Walsingham, enemy or no enemy. She has
such a wholesome, natural way of doing things; and then,
she’s so kind to Moily. You'd better believe that I had
a good time to-day, and made two or three dollars in the
bargain—Hark !”

“ What is it?” cried widow Green, while her woman
started to her feet, looking fiercely about. -

 

 
   

-

 
 

‘THIS IS A MUMMY |” 93

“ Nothing ; only I fancied I heard steps—not likely,
though. And such fortunes as I gave them! I wonder
if any of them will ever come true?”

“ But what else did you do ?”

“ Told Lady Walsingham’s fortune.”

“Oh! Paul, you didn’t do that !”

“ Didn't I though? And a right handsome woman is
Lady Walsingham. Beside her was a small piece of an-
tiquity, upon whom I almost expected to find the label—

‘ ¢This is a Mummy.’
“For her I prophesied a husband—pon word ! and she
looked as pleased as could be. Then breathing a parting
warning into Molly’s ear, bless her bright eyes! what I
specially went there for—I came away.”

“Oh, Paul, it seems to me as if you put your life in
danger for such trifling things !”

“ Not trifling to me, mother. I thought I heard steps
again—close against the windows,” he said, sperking in a
lower voice,

“Oh, my son, if they should suspect !—these dreadful
Hessian soldiers—they would kill us all. Somebody told
me the General heard that you had been tampering with
the prisoner, and he is master mad with you.”

“ Who told you?”

“T can’t say now—somebody at meeting the other
Sunday. I know it frightened me not a little, and I
trembled in my shoes to see you here tonight. Suppose
we put out the candles ?”

“ Nonsense !” he said, lifting the glass full of honey,
and spreading some over his bread.

“ Mother, this tastes as it used to when I was—.”. He
paused again, turning his face to the closed window,
They were all silent and fearful. He arose from his chair,

 
    
  

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

went to the window, put his ear against the inside shutter,
and shook his head threateningly, as he said: ‘ There’s
somebody there, I’m not mistaken ; the ears of a good scout
seldom are.”

“Then we are lost !” cried widow Green.

** Nonsense !” cried her son.

“T’ve courage plenty for myself, but none for thee,” she
said, again.

The captain stood in a listening attitude against the
shutter, while Mrs. Green’s woman stole softly into the
outer room. ;

“There are two or three of them,’

“ Of whom?”

“That I don’t know. They are going softly round
the west corner. The frost betrays them, though. Are

’ whispered the man.

you all fastened up?”

“Every part; we went from garret to cellar.”

“Good; now get me my razor. My beard feels un-
comfortable, what little there is of it.”

“Your razor, Paul!” cried the widow, in a frightened
voice.

“Yes, mother, and in a hurry. Tvea plan in my
mind.”

She brought him the box containing his razors,
trembling and wondering. He went through the process
deftly and quickly ; then, going to the fire he sought for
a dead coal, and made a dot on his right cheek, changing
his eyebrows with the same material, Then he parted
his hair in the centre, and turned round to his astonished
mother.

“ Good gracious, Paul! you look like—”

“Get one of her caps as quickly as you can,” inter-
rupted the captain.

    
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

  
 

ee

 

 

  

A TRANSFORMATION SCENE. 95

 

The widow started. The voice was as like that of her
sewing-woman as if it had been herself. Dimly she com-
prehended that her boy was intending to bring his
imitative powers into requisition, for the purpose of
deceiving the enemy, if, indeed, they were outside. She
brought the cap, while her woman was still reconnoitering,
and he put it on, when his appearance was so exactly like
the good stout sewing-woman, with a hair mole on the
right cheek, and heavy brows, that the widow Green, in
spite of the formidable nature of the circumstances
surrounding them, burst into a laugh that, though she
suppressed its hilarity, made her sides ache.

Presently in came her woman, with a bundle on her
arm. She held up her hands, and raised her eyebrows,
but did not laugh.

“ Tt seems he has the same thought I have myself,”’ she
said. “Here are some of my clothes, and if my twin
sister was alive, I’d suy that’s she. Now put them on;
take my knitting, which you can do as readily as I can
unless you've forgotten, and sit down by the fire. Pl
manage the rest.”

“ Then. there is somebody outside ?” said the widow.

“ Ay ; more than one somebody—three somebodies—five
somebodies, and one or two of ’em soldiers, with their
yellow thingumbobs on their shoulders. I was bound to
see, and the mercy knows how long it took me to lift my
window as softly as softly could be, and then manage a
crack in the shutter, so that they needn’t see. They were
talking in a whisper when I saw them, and, Lord forgive
me, if I didn’t wish for a kittle o’ boiling water, for
I had a smart chance to pour it right over ’em. It’s
no doubt they'll break out soon, for they’ve likely
tracked him here, and more likely have heard him

   

  
 

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

talking and laughing. Now, if he ain’t greatly changed
from what he used to be, he can mimic me, looks and
voice, enough to take my clothes and jest slip’em on. If
they get boisterous, and will come in, why I'll let ’em on,
or he will, and when they’re safe in the house, I'll slip
out and go over to my son’s. It’s growing bitter cold,
and I guess they'll be glad of a warm fire, after sneaking
around there in the wind.”

“What, they come in and be right here? No, no,”
said the widow, tremblingly.

“Don’t you be in the least afraid for me,” returned
Captain Paul; “only you keep your wits about you,
mother, and I'll be sure to have mine. I like the
fun hugely,” he added taking up the bundle, and pre-
paring to go. “If I don’t fool the codgers, then there’s no
foolin me. Aha?’

There came a knock at the door at that moment—a
very quiet knock.

“ Their knuckles will get desperately cold,” said Captain
Paul, and hurried out to array himself, while Hannah
concealed the clothes and disguise he had worn there
about her person. “Say nothing in answer to the raps
yet,” he whispered, through the door; “make them some-
thing hot.”

This, also, Hannah had thought of, and was now pre-
paring over the fire. She also brought on the table extra
glasses, and a jug steaming hot.

Again the knock was repeated—this time with more
decision, A second Hannah now stalked in, seated herself
by the side of the fire-place, and caught up that damsel’s
work, which lay on a chair.

“Not that I'm going to let you spoil that,” cried the
veal Hannah ; and, going to the drawer, she brought out

  

    
   

 
  
   
   
  

 
  

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

re

  

 

97

ADMITTANCE, IN THE KING'S NAME!

the ravelled half of a stocking, changed the needles
dexterdusly, and he went to work amid much suppressed
laughter, for the sight was a ludicrous one whenever the
two Hannahs spoke to each other.

“ Let ’em rattle about for awhile,” said the real widow
Green’s woman ; they'll git impatient pretty soon, I
guess, and then we'll have to—”

A tremendous thumping at the front door put an end
to the sentence.

“Tl go up,” said Hannah.

So she went to the room above, made a great noise at
the shutters—delayed over raising the window, and finally
put her cap-frill out, as if she feared that somebody might
shoot her.

“ Who's there?” she called. ‘Who disturbs two lone
women at this time o’night ?”

“You must come down and let us in, good woman,”
said a voice.

“Don’t good woman me—be off; this ain’t a tavern.”

“We are very well aware of that,” said Lawyer
Asbury, who was the chief spokesman ; “ but, let me tell
you that our business admits of no delay. There is an
enemy of the King hidden in this house, and we have
warrants to search it.”

“ Which of us two old women do you want?” asked
Hannah, in a voice of scorn, determined to prolong the
interview as skilfully as she could.

“ Neither of you old women. Let us in, and we'll tell
you who we do want. We've been pummeling here for
an hour, now.”

“ It’s pretty business, I think, a-going about frighten-
ing lone people such times as these. How do I know

but you'll murder us all?”
E

 

     
  
 

 
 

  

98 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“Tf you keep us here much longer you'll be sorry for
it, old lady; so you had better hurry before we break the
door in,”

“ Well, well, if you must, you must,” replied Hannah ;
“but, make allowance for age, if you please; and rheu-
matiz—which I hope to the gracious the frost’ll give
you;” she muttered, laboriously pulling the window
down, and closing the shutters.

Then she went down-stairs.

“ Now, honey,” she said, addressing the captain,
‘make your best of me, I'll steal out while they’re all
here—out of the side-door, which, likely, they won't
think of. They’ll have somebody at the back one I sup-
pose. Do you go to the front door with a candle and
open it, And remember that I’ve had a hard time open-
ing the winder up-stairs, and shettin’ it, and that I’ve
got the rheumatiz badly.” Saying this Hannah walked
off in the dark and watched her chance.

Captain Paul went to the door, and, after many groan-
ings and some awkwardness, at last opened it, when in
filed five men, the lawyer at their head.

“Laws now!” cried the pseudo-Hannah, “ what has
the millingtery come to do here, this hour o’ night ?”

“To find a traitor and a spy, you witch you; we've
got him fast, too, I think, for let me tell you we shall
search the house thoroughly.”

“S’arch and welcome,” was the reply; “there’s no-
body here but me and the mistress. Me you have always
known, Lawyer Asbury--the mistress you has always
known heretofore, as a good woman and church-going.”

“ Hold your palaver,’ muttered the lawyer, while
Captain Paul made a grimace behind his back.

They went into the kitchen, where the widow, out-

    
   

 

  
   

 

 

     

WHERE CAN THE REBEL BE? 99

wardly calm, but inwardly in much Te sat
knitting.

“Widow, where is the fellow?” queried the lawyer.
“We heard him talking, but now.”

“What fellow?” queried the widow, while Hannah
fell to mixing some hot spirits.

“No need of feigning, old lady,” returned the lawyer,
after saying something in German to one of the soldiers,
“he was followed here direct to this door, and a guard
put on so that we are perfectly sure he has not got out.
You had better confess.”

“Here's nobody but Hannah and I. You may search
the house as soon as you please.” The lawyer looked at
her steadily. He was used to reading countenances, and
on hers he read indifference.

“ Well, we shall be obliged to search,” he said, nodding
to the soldiers.

“ Have something hot?” asked Hannah, grating the
nutmeg in a pitcher.

“ Well, yes; the fellow can’t escape us now. I don’t
care if I do.” The soldiers were well pleased. Before
the cheerful fire of the hospitable widow, even if they had
come with evil intent, was pleasanter to the inner and
outer man than standing in the frosty air with the
mercury down to zero. So they drank the heating
mixture and smacked their lips.

“ Now, girl, give us plenty of light,” said Asbury,
“and show us every part of this floor. You, corporal, stay
here with the widow, and look sharp.”

“ Now for up-stairs,” said the lawyer, returning, and
up they went, finding no contraband articles, although
they poked their guns and long swords here, there, and
everywhere. There was no cellar, so the kitchen and

    
 

  

100 CAPTAIN MOLLY,

outhouses came in for their share, but of course nothing
was found. The real Hannah had made good her escape.

“ This is outrageous!” eried the lawyer. “ J am sure
the fellow came here, was tracked up to the very door,
was heard talking, plainly, and in spite of our close watch,
he has vanished. The house has been searched thoroughly.
Widow Green, you are a church-member, and won’t lie.”

The widow looked up, alarmed.

“ Tl lie for her,” said Hannah, emphatically, “ if it’s
lying you want. I’m no church-member, and it won't
hurt me.” The idea tickled the shrewd lawyer, and he
smiled in spite of himself.

“ We will put a guard round the house, at all events,”
said the lawyer.

“ What! you keep us all in the house, and to-morrow
market day?” cried Hannah.

“Oh! no; you or the widow are welcome to go out,
but that fellow must be lurking somewhere here, and must
be found. Widow Green, you say you've had no strange
company to night.”

“] didn’t say so, but I do say so now,” replied the
widow.

“ No man here to supper, eh?”

“Oh! yes, half a dozen,” spoke up Hannah, ironically.
“ Didn't you hear ’em carousing and singin’ and
whistlin’? Of course two lone women expect to be in-
sulted by such questions,” and her needles quivered with
anger.

“ We all know that the-widow has a son,” said the
lawyer. .

“ Well, ain’ she a right to!” snapped Hannah,

“ Nobody questioned that,” responded the lawyer, who

was afraid of Hannah’s tongue, so well counterfeited.

 

  
LAWYER ASBURY BAFFLED. 101

“Then let her alone; its bad enough to have the boy
off nobody knows where, fighting them—well I’d like to
say devil’s own foreigners, but I didn’t. How can we
tell if the poor fellow ain’t laying bleeding somewhere
‘twixt this and New York? Get along with you, Lawyer
Asbury. You're in comfort ; let other folks be, won’t ye?”

“ Well, I’m going,” said the lawyer, taking one final
gulp at the hot drink, “ but I know that fellow came in
here, and I know he hasn’t gone out. At the same time,
I know he’s a traitor and a spy. Good-night. T'll leave
a soldier here on your hospitality.”

“ What! one o’ them he’then!” bounced Hannah—
“ why, we can’t understand him.”

“ Can’t help it; those were the orders;” and the men
left, all but the corporal, who applied himself to drink.

When they were gone, the widow, at a sign, arose, and
gave Hannah a candle ; the two left the corporal sitting
before the fire. It is needless to say that Hannah was
allowed to go out the next day with her market-basket,
that the basket contained a suit of men’s clothes, and that
the real Hannah returned.

 

CHAPTER XVI.
CAPTAIN MOLLY’S PLAN,

Curistmas drew near. Everything was prepared for
the grand festival at Walsingham House. ‘The dresses
were all made. Three or four rooms had been skilfully
thrown into one by the substitution of curtains for doors,
and these, looped back, gave a very pretty glimpse of the
elegant stretch of apartments, all brilliantly illuminated,
as they were to be on Christmas Eve, that the lady of the
house might judge of the effect, which was very splendid.

 
   

    

102 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

The Delaware in some parts was quite frozen over, and
there was good skating on the little stream that separated
the upper from the lower village of Trenton.

Molly had grown very reticent of late. She seemed to
have numerous errands across the river, :

“T want to wear a gold necklace to-morrow night,”
she said, as she sat with Lady Walsingham.

“That you can easily do, child,” replied the latter. “1
have two or three, and Elsie will not wear hers.”

Elsie sat in the next room learning to play chess. Her
vis-a-vis was General Rahl, who was more and more
infatuated with each succeeding interview. The General
devoted all his spare time to Walsingham House, and, as
he was one of the most prudent of men, and did not press
upon her many lover-like attentions— moreover, as the
Lieutenant-Colonel was not to be hung, Elsie saw more
of his good qualities, and almost forgot to detest him.

“But I don’t want yours, or Miss Vernon’s,” said
Molly, “thanking you all the same. I want one of those
old-fashioned necklaces of big beads, and nobody has one
that I know of, but the widow Green.”

“Tt seems to me you are infatuated with the widow
Green,” said Lady Walsingham. “J warn you that, if
you have any feeling for that renegade son of hers, I shall
see your father.”

“ Why, Lady Walsingham, you can’t think that at my
age, I could have a lover,” said Molly, with an appear-
ance of great ingenuousness. “ Look back at your own
girlhood. Remember, I am only seventeen !”

Lady Walsingham said nothing. At the age of seven-
teen she had already flirted with and discarded a half-
dozen. lovers.

“T know she'd lend them to me,” soliloquised Molly ;

 
     

   

WANTED, A COURIER. 103

 

“and don’t I wish I could be transformed into a boy
with a pair of skates on. Wouldn’t I be over the river ?
I might send a note for them,” she added.

“Yes, child, if you want them so badly, send by one of
the servants,” said Lady Walsingham ; “though I don’t
believe any of them can be spared.”

The next day Molly made her appearance in the
kitchen, where she was a general favourite.

“Why, how busy you all are !” she cried.

“We has to be busy to-day, miss,” said the butler.
“Hight turkeys, two geese, sixteen chickens, three roast
pigs, a side of mutton, and a quarter of beef. Joe, you
rapscallion, attend to your work.”

“ An idle good-for-nothing,” cried the cook, and Joe
dodged a rolling-pin still keeping his eyes on Molly’s face.

“Oh! Myr. John,” said Molly, “how well you are
looking !”

“Be I, miss?” queried the delighted butler.

“ How I should like to see you on the ice; you would
make such a grand figure.” The latter was obese.

“T’m particular proud o’ my calves, miss, particular
proud o’ my calves,” he said.

“JT wish you could skate, now—l’ve a little errand
across the river.”

“ Couldn’t, miss, couldn’t,” said the butler, his coun-
tenance falling. ‘ Heft o’ this Christmas dinner falls on
me, though cook would dispute it,” he added, more
softly.

“Then, can’t you spare somebody? Here's Joe—it
wouldn’t take him long, you know. It’s only a note to
carry.”

“Them there Hessians would git hold of it. He’s a
fool—and it might be reason. Reason’s mighty bad.”
  

 

104 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“Treason, John, you mean. But here ; you may read
it yourself—every bit of it.”

Now, John could not read, and the witch knew it.
He took it, however, with an important air.

“Oh! but, Mr. John, you’ve got it upside down.”

“So I has, miss. I was jest going to turnit. You
see, my sight is so shorted like. Ah! Isee. Joe,” he
added, after due inspection, “take this note across the
river for Miss Molly.”

“T’ll pay you for your trouble, Joe,” said Molly.

“ Does I want pay?’ cried Joe, indignantly. “No, I
don’t. <Ain’t I grateful? Yes, I be! Wouldn't I go to
Chiny for you? I would;” and on went his old wool-cap, .
with the missive snugly tucked inside.

Nearly two hours passed. Joe returned with the chain,
but by sundry nods and shrugs, Molly saw that he had
something of importance to communicate. Presently, she
had ripped up the lining of his sleeve, and taken a note
from thence.

The two girls were closeted together after Joe had been
sent off with a large reward, and many words of caution.
Then Molly warily opened the note. It was written by
the widow Green, and ran thus :—

“ Dear Little Molly, —I have heard from Paul.
There will be stiring times between this and to-morrow,
if all turns out well. In case of any trouble, you know
where to come. Fortunately, the river is covered with
solid ice. Be brave as ever, and trust in God. I dare
not say more, except that thou must use thy woman’s
wit, to keep the Hessian officers as late as possible at the
frolic. A word to the wise is sufficient.”

“ Elsie, that means something!” cried Molly, her cheeks
crimsoned by excitement.

 

  
  

   

DETAIL OF THE CONSPIRACY. 105

“ Yes,” said Elsie. “Oh, Molly—only tc-morrow !”

“ Elsie, are you sure you have the pass-word? How
did you get it?”

“ With a kiss,” said Elsie, shuddering, “and I have
hated myself ever since. It was a Judas’ kiss.”

“ Nonsense,” returned Molly. “ When the liberties of
a country like this are at stake, we should not halt at
trifle. Shall we have courage, think you, to carry out
my plan ?”

“Yes, cried Elsie, eagerly. ‘Anything that can be
done by mortal woman J will do—to save him.”

“ Once free of the sentinels, and the woods at his back,
you see how easily it might be done.”

“ But the sentinels are alert ; so are the guards.”

“ You forget that this is to be a holiday night. That
was my thought. Your kind aunt is to send provisions
enough for the whole camp, I was going to say.”

“Yes, yes; I know that.”

“ But we must get drugged wine for the sentinels on
guard, and for those about his person.”

“ Great heaven! Molly, would you murder them?
cried Elsie, aghast.

“‘ By no means ; only set them to sleep so soundly that
they will not wake up till to-morrow morning.”

“ But how to get to them ?”

“This way: one of the youngest of the officers is to be
drugged at the party. When the wine affects him it is
my duty to cajole him into another room ; Joe’s duty to
strip him of his regimentals; your duty to put them on ;
the duty of alt three to go to the camp—myself as a ser-
vant of Lady Walsingham—you as a Hessian officer with
the pass-word—Joe with an immense hamper for the
prisoner. Under the eatables is to be concealed your

    
 

    
   
 
 
 
 
    
 
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
   
  
 
    
  
   

106 CAPTAIN MOLLY

dress. Washburn is to exchange with you—he to put on
the Hessian uniform. He is to pass out with me when
the guards are sufficiently stupefied. Then you can re-
sume your dress, and trust to your wits for getting out of
the difficulty.”

Elsie drew her breath hard.

“Gan I do all this ?” she cried.

“ You said you could, just now,” replied Molly.

“ Tf we fail !”

“We shall not fail. I feel as strong as a thousand
Hessians.”

* You will make me brave, Molly.”

“T wish to.”

“Tt looks as if we might succeed,” said Elsie, growing
more hopeful.

‘We are sure to.”

* But what if they miss us from the party ?”

“You are to complain of headache to your aunt, and
ask for an hour’s rest, sending your apologies to the
General by her.”

“ Molly, you ought to be a General yourself!” cried
Elsie, admiringly.

“ Td rather be a captain,” said Molly, blushing.

“ Well, Captain Molly, my courage is rising. If Joe
only does his part well, I don’t see as the rest is so very
difficult.”

“It is difficult,” said Molly; “ but, remember, he
only is great who surmounts obstacles. We must face
the dark, and the cold, and the danger. My only hope
is its being a holiday night, and that the Hessians, filled
with good cheer, will be off their guard.”

“ About what time is this serio-comic exhibition to
commence, captain?’ asked Elsie,
JUST GOING TO COMMENCE. 107

“ The guests will be here by nine. The gentlemen
will be seated at the card-tables about eleven. Then our
operations must begin. I trust we shall be through by
twelve.”

“ Tt is nearly time to dress,” said Elsie. “ How little
they will guess what strange hopes and fears are going
on under these costly laces,” she added, moving toward
the bed, where the finery was spread out. The bell rung.
Molly was summoned to the boudoir of her ladyship.

“ Molly,” cried the latter, “Franz has disappointed
me about my hair, and I do believe, after all, I must
bother you to do it.”

“ Tf I can suit you,” responded Molly, cheerfully.

“ Of course you can, though I had set my heart upon
a hair-dresser : but Franz is sick, so I must do the best
f can. That’s not saying, though, that you won't suit
me. You've a good deal of taste for a little body.”

Molly cheerfully complied. Everything was at hand—
pins, dressings, pomatums, curling-irons—and she went
to work with a will.”

“ What do you think of this story?’ queried Lady
Walsingham.

“¢ What story ?” asked Molly, innocently,

“ Of the widow Green’s son. Did you know that he
came near being arrested the other day ?”

“ T heard something about it,” said Molly, flushing.

“ Look out, my little girl,” said Lady Walsingham,
shaking her finger at her. “ Do you know they say that
very same fortune-teller who came here was the man?
Ah ! don’t tell me you didn’t suspect. You are a little
rebel, I’m afraid, after all, and I don’t know what I shall
do with you.”

« And they didn’t arrest him, of course?” said Molly,

 
 

 

  

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

hiding herself behind a handful of hair that she was
holding. :

“ No; do you think I should like to arrest such a
smart young man myself? I never heard anything like
it—such a variety of disguises as he has gone into. Why,
the other night, there he was right before them—had
dressed himself in the girl’s clothes, and so he entertained
them after she had gone; next day, although they had
one of the soldiers on guard, he managed it so nicely
that they never suspected—got off, and the real servant
came back. I call that a smart Yankee trick, don’t
you?”

“ Very smart,” said Molly, with a great relish, for she
was chuckling to herself.

“ Yes, no doubt you'd say so. Ah, Molly, after all my
good instructions, I’m afraid you'll fail me at last.”

“Why should you be?” asked Molly, again taking
shelter behind the thick hair.

“ Your father came here to-day, Molly.”

“ Father !” The girl was astonished.

“ Yes; he came, he said, to bave a little private talk
with me.”

“ What! about me?’ queried Molly.

“ Yes, about you. It seems he is getting anxious, and
wants you at home again.”

“ Not immediately ?”

“ Ag soon as the party is over.”

“ Oh!” and Molly drew a long breath of relief.

“You wouldn’t like to go before, Molly ?”

“ T don’t think I should, just as it’s right upon us.”

“Tm sure I don’t know what I should have done
without you, even if you are a little rebel; and I hope
that’s not very deep-seated —only for love or fancy’s

 

 

  

 
 

 

  

OVER THE TOILET.

 

   

sake, perhaps. But your father has heard some sort of
nonsense about this Captain Paul—is that his name ?—
and he seems to feel afraid that you will slip through his
fingers some way, and marry him. Of course, if you did,
he said you should never lay a finger on any of his
property ; and I expect your father is a very rich man,
Molly.”

“ He is called very rich,” said the givl.

“T excused you, of course, and replied that, fromm what
I had geen, I thought there was no reason whatever for
alarm. You will observe that I have never seen you
in this rebel captain’s company.”

Molly’s blush was reflected very fairly, now, in the
great mirror, but the girl stooped, as she said, ‘“‘ Which
arrow shall I put in—that tipped with ruby or the
diamond ?”

“ Let me see,” said Lady Walsingham ; “ruby won't go
very well with crimson. I think [ll have the diamond
to-night. What beautiful bands! I really think I shall
have to take you to England with me.”

“ Do you think of going to England?”

“Well, I suppose I must, as the fortune-teller told me
I should,” answered Lady Walsingham, significantly.
“By the way, what do you think of Elsie?”

“ Of Elsie? How do you mean?” es

“Ts she very unhappy. in the prospect of this
marriage ?”

“JT don’t think she is very happy,” Molly replied,

‘reluctantly. ‘She did not like to speak of that.”

“Do you know I had a singular dream about her and

the General ?”
“No; I should like to hear it,” said Molly.
“Why, it seemed as if they were just going to be

  
 

  
 

 

  

CAPTAIN MOLLY.

married, when an enormous snake glided from some part
of the room, coiled up the General’s body, and struck
him a deadly, terrible blow, just on the left temple. I
declare to you I felt faint and sick when I awoke, with
the thought of it.”

“J don’t wonder,” and Molly shuddered. “TI hate
to dream of snakes. It seems as if they always bring
trouble.”

“Yes; if there is anything in dreams, I should be in-
clined to infer that Elsie would not marry the General,
after all.”

“Oh! I hope not!” said Molly, impulsively.

“ And I hope not, if it can be broken with honour.
Yet it seems she has been tolerably cheerful through it all.”

“Your dream impresses me that she will never marry
him,” said Molly.

“The time draws near,” was the rejoinder, “and I, for
one, hope she will marry him. I see in him the
elements of a good man, though, to be sure, he is a
German ; but, then, the Germans are pre-eminently home
people, and love their families. There! what a taste you
have, little Molly; I declare it is wonderful. Yow'll
make your fortune as a hair-dresser.”

“Shall I stay till you are dressed?’ asked Molly.

“But you need the time yourself, now. Besides,
Elsie is to be dressed, and I wish her to look particu-
larly well to-night. Dear, dear, what trying occasions
these are !”

“But I shall have plenty of time !” persisted Molly.
“T had rather stay than not.”

“Oh ! well, then, stay and welcome. Now, would you
think me forty?’ she asked, laughing, as she nodded to
the answering image in the glass,

 
   

 

 

  

 
  

  

 

  

111

 

AN OMINOUS DREAM.

“No, nor thirty,” answered Molly, with sincerity ; for,
indeed, the harmless lady did not seem much beyond her
twenties in the brilliant light that flashed upon her, when
the maid had lighted the candles.

It was some time before Molly got back to Elsie, who
was very leisurely dressing.

“JT thought you were never coming,” said the latter.

“ But oh ! I’ve something to tell you,” cried Molly, and
she related the dream. Elsie shuddered.

“Tt does seem strange,” she replied, “that I myself
should dream of serpents. In the temple you say the
snake struck him? Indeed, I hope he is not going to
be killed. Id far rather he should live, only not as my
husband,” and she shuddered again.

 

CHAPTER XVII.
HOW THE PLOT SUCCEEDED.

A sPLENDID sight was Walsingham House before
ten o’clock on Christmas night. Lights blazed from
every opening and crevice, and shone far out on the
dead, white snow, in glittering lines of fire. It was a
fearfully cold night, but the gay groups within knew
nothing of its rigours—cared for nothing but feasting and
pleasure.

Elsie had made her excuse to her aunt.

“You do look pale, my child,” she said. ‘ Yes, it is
wise in you to seek some rest. I will tell the General, if
he misses you. Ah! you sly girl to trap my lover.
Well, I forgive you—you didn’t know T had set my cap
for him.” :

“They've been drinking famously,” said Molly, in a

whisper, as she joined Elsie, “I’ve been watching them,

 

    
  
 

 

   
      
   
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
    
  
 
 
 
 
 
  
   

 

 

CAPTAIN

 

MOLLY.

and there’s scarcely a really sober man there, thanks to

the long table,” and she pointed to the object in question,
sparkling with decanters and goblets of glass and silver.

“There’s poor little Lavoy, making believe sweet six- .
teen, and, oh! my dear, there’s a spy, or something, in a |
horrible cloak. He looks frozen, too.” Molly went for-
ward to the entrance.

“ Will you get this note immediately to General Rahl?”
asked the man, his heavily bearded face quite pallid.

Molly took the note.

“J know just where he is;” that was all she said, and
disappeared. The man went away.

“Did you give it to him?” asked Elsie on her return,

“Hush! I burned it !” |

“Oh! Molly ”

“T tell you”—and Molly’s now pale face and glittering
eyes came close to the ear of Elsie. It was then her turn
to start and grow white.

“There is no time to lose,” said Molly, firmly. “Joe
has done his part to perfection. He'd kill himself for
me, I believe, if I was heathen enough to ask it. Go to
your room. ‘The clothes are there. Stop, Elsie, you
don’t understand yet about the note. That man was
Black Steve, who keeps a bar down by the river, the
greatest tyrant and Tory in town. There! now keep up
your courage.”

Hours before that, in the chill and blackness of the
most bitter night of the season, Washington, with his
shivering, but hopeful troops, was crossing the frozen
Delaware !

A strange, wild scene it was—the few flambeaux
held in the forward boats glaring in small, stolid circles,
showing the broad-shouldered, heavily-bearded ‘“ Marble-

 

 
 

CROSSING THE DELAWARE. 118
headers,” sturdily managing the boats, as they made their
way laboriously among the great masses of floating,
cracking ice, sometimes crashing together, to the immi-
nent danger of crushing each other. The silence, or
suppressed shouts, made the scene one of solemnity as
well as peril. The cutting night-air deadened the skin to
the very bone, and two of the devoted men were frozen
stark and stiff before the crossing was ended.

Molly had some inkling cf this, but precisely how the
matter was accomplished, she could not tell. The note
she had burned read thus :—

“ General Rahl,—A_ scout has arrived, who says the
American Army is coming—is only nine miles away.

“From A Frienp To THE CAUSE.”

Still, it did but stimulate the undaunted Molly.

“ If they are surprised,” she said to Elsie, “ they may
kill him in their anger; and if he is free, why, he will -
have a chance to fight in the good cause if there is any
fighting to be done.”

Elsie shuddered, partly with the cold, partly with a
foreboding of the morrow. The prisoner safe away, she
would defy the Hessian commander; but would this
night’s work end in victory or defeat?

As Molly had prophesied, the soldiers had had their
share of Christmas-cheer, and were in a state of jollity.
Elsie trembled under her military cloak, as they passed
the first sentinels, and she could scarcely steady her voice
to repeat the talismanic words :—

“Tt is daybreak.”

‘“ Pass on,” was the reply.

IT should have said before this, that Elsie long had been
an excellent German scholar, that language being her
specialty, on account of her father’s strong love of it, and

 
  

 

114 CAPTAIN MOLLY,

her ambition to master all its intricacies. The last sen-
tinel was not so complaisant, and grufily demanded, with
a “mein Got,” what they were going to feed up the rebel
for? He had already had enough.

Elsie threw aside her cloak, and no sooner did the
soldier see the insignia of rank than he shrunk back
cowed and quiet.

They reached the solitary house, behind which the
great pines, their ghostlike arms shrouded in snow,
seemed like so many weird spirits, watching over the
destinies of the apparently doomed land.

The sentinels admitted them without a word—seeing a
superior officer with them, who seemed to have come for
the purpose of superintending the operations; while
Molly took out the good cheer, and poured liberal flagons
of wine for the delighted guards, who laughed heartily at
her unintelligible gibberish.

The captive liewtenant-colonel at first looked moodily
on—then slowly began to take in the meaning of the
scene. His haggard face brightened; he cast suspicious
glances toward the tall young officer, whose cap was
brought low over the eyes, and who stood as much in the
shadow as possible.

Wine was poured for the prisoner, cake and meat set
before him. He read the dumb language expressed in
the rapid motion of Molly’s fingers, “ Hat heartily,” and
obeyed.

“ The guards having drank to excess, threw themselves
down, thoroughly overpowered, and were soon sleeping,
senselessly.

“ You are to dress in that uniform,” said Molly, as
Elsie hurried into the next room. “ Not a word—it
must be done !”

  
  
   
  
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
  
  
  
 
  
    
  
 
 
 
  

  
THE PLOT SUCCESSFUL—AND MORE. 115

“ But I shall expose you all to insult and detection.”

« And if you do not do as I tell you, you lose Elsie
Vernon. ‘To-morrow, to save you from the gallows, she
will become the wife of General Rahl.”

The prisoner grew white to the lips.

“ T shall do as you say,” he exclaimed, in a low voice.

At that moment Elsie came out, pale and trembling.

He grasped her hand; their eyes met in one eloquent
glance.

“My glorious preserver!” he murmured, his lips
quivering.

In a few moments, he, too, came out, fully equipped—
all insufficiency of dress hidden by the ample cloak.

“ What are you doing?” cried Elsie, as Molly threw
her own cloak over her shoulders.

“ You are to go with him and Joe,” said Molly.

«« And leave you here!” cried Elsie.

“TJ tell you not to think of me. Remember to-
morrow. You must go with him.”

“ But where?’ cried Elsie.

“ Hist !” cried Joe, who had been watching at the
entrance.

“ Great God! what does it mean?” exclaimed the
lieutenant-colonel.

“Tt means that Washington’s army has crossed the
Delaware,” said Molly.

“ The camp has heard it,” cried Joe.

Nearer it sounded—the glorious old fife and drum!

‘“ Off with the Hessian uniform!” shouted the prisoner.
“ There’s work to do, Girls, find your way back with
Joe, I can take care of myself, now.”

He unbuckled the arms of the sleeping sentinel, atid
rapidly changed his attire.

 
 

 

 

116 CAPTAIN MOLLY.

“ Good-night—God for ever bless you!’ he cried,
pressing Elsie to his bosom, and then dashing out into
the darkness.

Tumult and confusion reigned. From what quarter
the attack would come nobody knew. Half the soldiers
were stupid from excessive potations, and still the shrill
fife and the battle-drums drew near.

CHAPTER XVIII.
THE EVENTS OF A DAY.

Bur not yet heard at Walsingham House. There
the revelry was almost wild. A full band gave forth
its sonorous music—the dancers were footing it to the
merriest of tunes.

“ Your niece stays long,” said the Hessian commander,
to Lady Walsingham.

“‘ She was very much fatigued ; besides, General, she
wishes, no doubt, to be bright to-morrow. However, I
I will go myself and call her.”

“T beg you will not,” returned the General.

Nevertheless, Lady Walsingham did hurry, on the
moment, to the room of her niece.

She found it in disorder—apparel scattered round,
and the rich ball-dress thrown partly on the bed, partly
on the floor.

Suddenly, in the midst of her consternation, Elsie
entered, pale and wild, her every-day garments wet and
white with the snow.

“ Tn heaven’s name, what have you been doing
Lady Walsingham.

Elsie could not speak. Her tongue seemed frozen.
She sunk into the first chair,

yp

cried

   
  
 
   
  
   
   
 
  
  
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
  
   
Ne, eg PNT

WASHINGTON VICTORIOUS. LG

“Tell me, Elsie Vernon, what means all this?) Where
have you been in the night and snow? Are you mad ?”

Elsie shook her head, but still felt as if all power of
speech was for ever denied her.

“ Elsie Vernon, I command you to answer me. What
does this midnight visit from the house mean ?

“Tt means,” cried Molly, coming in quietly, “that
Miss Elsie is very tired and—very happy! The
American army has crossed the Delaware ; we heard the
fifes and drums—oh, such a terrible army !—forty times
as large as the Hessian force.”

The woman grew fairly pale, with her fear and ex-
citement.

“You wretches !” she cried, “there has been treachery
here. I don’t believe a word of what you say. Tell me,
this instant—”

The dull thud of a single cannon at that moment
smote her ear.

“T told you so,” cried Molly.

Lady Walsingham flew down-stairs.

Several Hessian soldiers were elbowing their way
through the gay crowds, in search of their General. Their
shouts awoke consternation and terror.

“The American army is upon us—the American army
has crossed the Delaware,” was the cry. Men and women
rushed, in frantic haste, to doors and windows. All the
town was in consternation. The fife and drum could be
distinctly heard in the distance. Cries and shouts were
mingled in strange discord. Those who were cowardly
ran, in their frantic fear, to hide themselves ; others, more
courageous, fled home through bye-ways.

General Rahl summoned his tipsy officers, with oaths
that almost sobered them.

 
 
  

 
   
  
  

 

 

 

 

118 CAPTAIN MOLLY,

He rode to head-quarters, followed by his staff, and
found his command prepared to surrender. His presence,
however, somewhat changed the aspect of affairs, and the
Hessians made ready to give battle.

The strife was a short but a bloody one. Washington
rode among his soldiers, himself directing their move-
ments. Many balls whistled by his ear—many a bullet
pierced his covering cloak; but he kept his position till
victory was assured.

Two hours after the defeat, an officer rode up to
Washington’s head-quarters.

“ Lieutenant - Colonel Washburn exclaimed the
General, as he gave him his hand. “ Well, I heard you

1»

were hung, or going to be.” ;

“Alive still, General, thank God, and able to do
service,” responded the officer.

“Heaven be thanked that the victory is with us.

Nevertheless, my reinforcements have disappointed me,

and we shall not be able to hold on here.”

“T am sorry for that, General.”

“So am I, chiefly on account of my poor, bare-footed
soldiers ; but we must be wary. A few more such blows
as this, and we are safe. I heard that Colonel Rahl,
General by brevet, was wounded in the fight. Is that
so”

“ Wounded, General, and I fear mortally.”

“ Ah, I’m sorry for that,” said. Washington. “ He was
a brave man. Where is he ?”

_ “ At the house of Lady Walsingham.”

“JT think I'll go and see him,” said Washington.

Accompanied by the lieutenant-colonel, the General
hurried over to the house where the Hessian commander
was, indeed, dying. He had-been fatally wounded,

 

 

   

   
 

 

THE WEDDINGS, ETC. 19

Attended by the mistress of the house, the Hessian
gazed with filming eyes where sat Elsie, white and
sorrowful, while Molly was busy in some little arrange-
ment for his comfort.

“ General,” said Washington, “1 am sorry to meet you
thus.”

“ And I am sorry to be met in this condition, but it
is one of the casualties which must be expected in war.”
Again his dying eyes turned to Elsie, and he kept
murmuring :—

“T see differently, now.”

“Do you not wish fora clergyman?’ asked Washing-
ton, who was always anxious for the spiritual condition
of his friends and his enemies.

“Yes,” was the brief response. “I did not, but now
I do.”

Lady Walsingham despatched a servant, who soon re-
turned with a minister, Molly started and flushed as
she saw enter with him Captain Paul Green.

The commander was left alone with the clergyman.

Presently the lieutenant-colonel was summoned to his
bedside. He reappeared in a few moments and spoke
earnestly with Elsie.

“ General Washington,” he said, after his short con
ference, “ General Rahl wishes to do what he considers
an act of justice. Through motives that need not be
mentioned here, he had persuaded this lady to engage
herself to him. This was to have been her wedding-day.
It will please him, therefore, to see her wedded to the man
to whom she has long been affianced. Will you honour
us by witnessing the ceremony 1”

The General assented with pleasure. Elsie left the
room, followed by Molly.

 
 

 

 

 

120 CAPTAIN MOLLY,

“Stop !’ erted Captain Paul, and before Molly had
time to leave he had caught her by the hand.

“ Now or never,” he whispered, as she turned her
flushed face toward him; “now or never, if you had
rather be left a widow than a forlorn maiden.”

Nothing more was said by the trembling girl, and an
impressive double wedding took place by the side of the
dying commander.

I need only add that Molly did not become a widow,
though her father cast her off. The sobriquet of captain
always clung to her, and it it said Washington really
conferred the title, in consequence of her bravery, when
she accompanied her husband some time afterward.

The lieutenant was raised to the rank of a General,
long before our troubles in that war were over, and dis-
tinguished himself numberless times—so that his name
has come down to us full of honours.

Lady Walsingham returned to England and married
again; and often, to delighted friends, she told her
Christmas-night experience, and the story of Captain
Molly.

THE END.

 

LONDON: W. J. JOHNSON, PRINTER, 121, FLEET STRERT

   

 

 

 

 

 
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JAMES GRANT’S NOVELS.

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! THE ROMANCE OF WAR;; or, The Highlanders in
Spain.
THE AIDE-DE-CAMP.
THE SCOTTISH CAVALIER.
BOTHWELL.
JANE SETON ; or, The Queen’s Advoocate.
PHILIP ROLLO.
LEGENDS OF THE BLACK WATCH,
MARY OF LORRAINE.
OLIVER ELLIS; or, The Fusiliers.
LUCY ARDEN ; or, Hollywood Hall.
i FRANK HILTON ; or, The Queen’s Own.
THE YELLOW FRIGATE.
HARRY OGILVIE; or, The Black Dragoons.
ARTHUR BLANE.
LAURA EVERINGHAM; or, The Highlanders of

Glenora.

   

 

 

    

  

THE CAPTAIN OF THE GUARD.
LETTY HYDE’S LOVERS.
CAVALIERS OF FORTUNE,
SECOND TO NONE.

TITE CONSTABLE OF FRANCE.

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LORD LYTTON’S WORKS,
CHEAP EDITION, in fscp. 8vo, Boards,

Price 2s. each.

A STRANGE STORY.

WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT? Vol. 1.
WHAT WILL HE DO WITH IT? Vol. I.
PELHAM.

PAUL CLIFFORD.

EUGENE ARAM.

THE LAST DAYS OF POMPELL.

THE LAST OF THE BARONS.

RIENZI. :
ERNEST MALTRAVERS. ‘
ALICE.

NIGHT AND MORNING.

THE DISOWNED.

DEVEREUX.

THE CAXTONS.

MY NOVEL. Vol. I.

MY NOVEL. Vol. IL

LUCRETIA.

HAROLD.

Price 1s. 6d. each.
GODOLPHIN. | ZANONI.

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THE PILGRIMS OF THE RHINE.
LEILA ; or, THE Srecr or Granapa,

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1, Seth Jones.

2. Alice Wilde, the
3. The Frontier Angel.
4, Malaeska.

assasoit’s Daughter.
ill Biddon, Trapper.
he Backwood’s Bride.

Todd.
Myra, the Child of Adoption.
‘he Golden Belt. (Ranche.
ybil G@hase; or, The Valley
Vionowana, the Shawnee Spy.
The Brethren of the Coast.

Daughter.
aftsman’s

| 18. Riflemen of the Miami.
19, Alicia Newcombe.
20.'Tne Hunter’s Cabin.
| 24,The Block House; or, The
22. The Allens. [Wrong Man.
23. Esther; on, The Oregon Trail,
24, Ruth Margerie; or, The Revolt
of 1689,
25. Oonomoo, the Huron.
26 The Gold Hunters.
; The Two Guards.
. Single Hye, the Indians’ Terror,
| Mabel Meredith; or, Hates and
Ahmo’s Plot. [Loves.
The Scout.
2Z. Tre King’s Man; or, Patriot
$3, Kent, the Ranger. [and Tory.

LIFE OF GARIBALDI.
FE OF COL, DAVID CROCKETT.
FE AND TIMES OF DANIEL

BOONE. —

LIBRARY.

. The Peon Prince,

. Erona. [ Captive.
3. Laughing ‘Byes; or, The White
. Mahaska, |

39. Myrtle. - $
. Indian Jim, _
. The Wreckers’
2. The Brigantine. —
. The Indian Que
. The Moose Hu
5. The Cave Chil
5. The Lost, Trail.
. Wreck of the Albion.
. Joe Davies’s Client.
. Toe Cuban Heiress.
. The Hunter’s Escape.
. The Silver Bugle.

+52. Pomfret’s Ward.

uindaro,

ival Scouts,
. The Trapper’s Pass.
3. The Hermit. - :
. The Oronoco Chief,
. On the Plains. —
. The Scout’s Priz

i rs Secret Shot.

. The Prisoner of the Mill.
. Black Hollow.

. Tho Seminole chia

. On the Deep. ;

BIOGRAPHIES.

KIT CARSON, i
PONTIAC, THE CONSPI TOR.

FREMONT.
LIFE OF TECUMSEH,

TALES,

THE ONEED mea

MADGE WY.

HUNTING ADVENTURES IN THE |
o (NORTHERN WILDS.

 

THANENS DA-NE-GEA,

FLORIDA,
LEGENDS OF THE MissouRI AND |
ae Papas

USEFUL LIBRARY,

READY REwepIES FOR COMMON
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OKERY BOOK,
CIPE BOOK.