UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY Class Book Volume Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. A charge is made on all overdue books. University of Illinois Library NOV 1^; 1 8 ^S5^ DEC 10 i9'c MOV 27 Di APR 0 8 1S81 mi 79 M32 i ] 3 1 tm HISTORIC NOVEIA JOHN ESTEN COOKE. JL^SURRY OF EAGLE'S 2,-MOHUN. $.^mhT TO HILT. i,— OUT OF THE FOAM. a-HAMMER AND RAFIXR. ^—FAIRFAX. V-BEATRICE HALLAM, a-CAPTAIN RALPH. a-ROBERT E. LEE. 10. —STONEWALL JACKSON. 11. -MISS BONNYBELL. 12. — LEATHER AND SILK. 13. — COL. ROSS OF PIEDMONT. U.-HER MAJESTY THE QUEEN. The thrilling historic stories of John Esten Cooke may be classed among the best and most popular of all American writers. The great contest between the States was the theme he chose for his Historic Ro- mances. Following \intil the close of the war the for- tunes of Stuart, Ashby, Jackson and Lee, he returned to Eagle's Nest,*' his old home, where, in the quiet of peace, he wrote volume after volume, intense in dramatic interest. There is not a dull line in any vol- ume of his writings. His books should be in every old Confederate soldier's library, and should bo reaa by every Southern boy. Cloth bound, per volume, $1.50l Paper covers, ** 50 cents. G. Dillingham G)*, PublisherSt NEW YORKa LORD FAIRFAX ; OR, THE MASTER OF GREENWAY COURT. BY JOHN ESTEN COOKE, AUTHOR OF Surry OF Eagle's Nest," " Hilt to Hilt," ''^ Hammer AND Rapier/' Etc., Etc. NEW YORK: G. Wl Dillingham Co., Publishers, Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1868, by G. W. CARLETON & CO. Ih the clerk's office of the District Court of the United States for the Southem District of New York. Entered according to Act of Congress in the year 1896, by R. POWEL PAGE, Administrator, Estate of John Esten Cooke. Fairfax. FAIRFAX; THE MASTER OF GREEWAT COURT. L THBEE OAYAUEBS* iftfl^^^N an evening of October, in the year 1748, th* n j^^MV slopes of the Blue Kidge at Ashby's Gap were all ClwIWj^ ablaze with the red light of the sinking sun. At this hour of houxs, in the month of months, two horsemen coming from the east, ascended the steep road above the present village of Paris, and ere long reached the summit of the mountain. "What they saw before them, looking westward from thai point, was worthy of attention from the most indifferent. Through the foliage-embowered waUs of the mountain pasa^ the eye embraced a wondrous spectacle. Southward, the ramparts of the great Blue Ridge rolled away like waves of the ocean, disappearing in a delicate mist. Beyond the Shenandoah stretched a limitless prairie, starred with brilliant flowers, which the faU winds gently agitated, making the expanse resemble a vast lake, whose waves were of every color of the rainbow. In the dim dis- tance, on the far horizon, rose the azure battlements of the Qreat North Mountain : and in front, the Massinuttoii 1 f 04 10 FAIRFAX ; OR, soared aloft — its huge blue outline standing out, clear cut, against the crimson curtain of the sunset. Never did artist, in his dreams of supernal glory, imagine anything more lovely than this landscape. The richest col- el's seemed exhausted to make up the picture. Forest and pPvairie, river and mountain, shone in blue and gold and CI imson : — the rosy mist of autumn drooped above the land- scape like a dream : — the enchanting Valley of the Shenan- doah lay before the eyes of the travellers like some land ol Faery or bright realm of Arcady. One was young, the other had reached middle age. Let us draw their outlines with a few strokes of the pen. The first was a boy of sixteen : tall, straight, and full of life. His hair was brown and curling, his complexion ruddy, his lips smiling. He wore a jaunty little cocked hat; elegant top boots ; kneebreeches of buckskin ; a broadskirted coat, and white ruffles ; in his hand he carried a small rifle, and behind his saddle were strapped the instruments of a sur- veyor. The laughing boy rode a handsome little sorrel, and his smile, his carriage, liis gestures, all indicated youth and joy and hope. His companion was no longer young, and a grim smile lit up the bold features, vividly contrasting with the enthusiasm of the boy. The worthy was tall of stature, huge of limb, a gigantic war machine, armed to the teeth and ready for com- bat. Under the drooping hat flashed a pair of dark eyes be- neath shaggy brows; the sarcastic lips were hidden by a hea- vy black moustache which swept down into the huge beard ; and behind this moustache shone a row of sharp white teeth which resembled those of a bear rather than a man. Hia dress was rough, travel-Rtained, and chiefly of leather ; from his well-worn belt depended an enormous broadsword, which clattered against his heavy boots — and the warlike person- age bestrode a charger, mighty of limb, and as rough and oowerful in appearance as himself. The two fi^es remained for a laoment stationary, gazing THB ICABfTEB OF QBEBNWIY OOUST. 11 At the landscape; then the elder touched his horse, ana moved on. " Come, my young friend,*' he said, in a species of growlj *' the sun's getting low yonder, and we had better push on and cross the Shenandoah before dark.'* " Yes, yes. Captain," returned the boy, but I could look at this scene forever — see the beautiful colors of the leaves, and hear the wind in the pines !' He who had been thus addressed, smiled grimly. " Listen to him !" he growled : " sentiment in the baok» wood, i'faith I Keep it for the ladies, Master George I — ^it*s thrown away on Captain Julius Wagner, otherwise called Captain Bloody Longknife, or the Devil take me I'* " Pshaw, Captain laughed the boy, " that is all aflfecta- tion. Tou are known to be romantic — to be a favorite with the ladies ! As well deny that you are the prince of fron- tier-fighters." A grim smile curled the huge moustache, and with his fin- ger the worthy pushed up that appendage until it stood out almost horizontal "My young friend," was the sarcastic reply, "you are flat- tering. I reply to your pleasing observation by saying that my fortune, both as an admirer of the fair sex, and a defend- er of the border, has been truly disgusting — ^more especially the latter. Glorious ! the life of a soldier ! Humph ! to wear your life out fighting, and then die, some day, in an unremembered skirmish ! — to have an end put to you by a stray bullet from the rifle of a rascally Injun ; — ^to be hud- dled into a hole to everybody *i8 satisfaction, who will get pro- motion by your death I — there's fame, there's glory, there's good fortune 1" And the Captain's lip curled elaborately. " But you have done your duty !" said the ardent boy; * that at least remains. And are you not Captain Wagner Jie Valiant?" '^Oh yes! Captain Wagner the Valiant, without % oleas FAIBFAX; OB, shirt ! Captain Wagner the Valiant, m leather breeches 1 Captain Wagner the Valiant, in an eld seedy buff coat, ana boots with holes, and rusty old spui's, that jingle, by my foith, like the armor of Mars, that Egyptian hero I have heard of ! Yes, that's all Captain Wagner is fit for — seedy ooat, boots in holes, rusty spurs, and fighting Injuns I Worse even than that ! I am becoming a mere courier, a traveUing horse, a miserable hack — I would be a dandy 1" " A dandy 1" laughed George. " Yes, young one;, a dandy, like what I have seen yonder at Belhavon, i'faith ! A nicely curled fop, with sOk gloves, a jew- elled snuff-box, and a sweet little simper in my voice — then ['d please the fair sex. Oh that Wagner was a dandy — Wagner the savage ! Oh that the shaggy old bear, with hia growling voice, and long sharp teeth, could be changed into a kitten, sleek and glossy, to gently pur-r-r-r-r ! — and be taken up into the female lap, and smoothed down the back, and made a pet of 1" George rephed with a laugh much gayer than before. " I really beheve you have had bad luck lately. Captain I Is it possible that " " AU things are possible in this miserable world, my young friend ; but I decline any statement upon this interesting topic." " Oh, now I remember I I heard that the handsome Mrs. Butterton " " Don't call names, George, my friend, and let us change the subject. I am getting hungry, or the Devil take me ; and yonder I see the Shenandoah between us and supper. The water's up and booming or I'll eat my head !" And pushing on they approached the river, whicli roared on angrily beneath the huge white-armed s;yjamores, grow- ing on the steep bank, and extendiug their boughs above the current. All at once, as George and his companion reached the banki their attention was attracted by a white object ix> the THB UAffTWR OF GBEENVT AI OOXTBS. 18 middle of the stream, which the fading Kght illumined — ^and this object was seen to be the head of a horse, above which rose a pair of shoulders, and a hat decorated with a black feather. "A good swimmer," muttered Wagner; "who the devfl can he be ? — ^but we'll soon see. Come, Injun-hater, take to water 1" And spurring his black charger into the angry current, Captain Wagner began to swim with the phlegm of an old traveller — George following in his wake upon his little sorreL The snorting animals ploughed their way through the rapid current; placed their feet upon the opposite bank; and with vigorous bounds reached dry land again. The rider of the white horse had already emerged from the stream, and was awaiting them. He was a young man of twenty-three or four, erect, slen- der, and what is called " aristocratic " in face, bearing, and expression. The frank ^nd smiling countenance was lit up by a species of joyous pride — that sunshine beaming in the sky of youth — and it was plain from the young man's dress, as from the carriage of his person, that he belonged to the class then known as " the Gentry." His brown coat was heavily embroidered ; his delicate raffles as white aa snow, and his fair top boots, defining the small and slender feet, of the finest leather. At his side, he wore a handsome Bword in a black leather belt ; behind the saddle was hia valise, of the same material, and his hands were cased in yeUow gauntlets, reaching nearly to the elbow. One ol those 1 lands now reined in, with careless grace, the spirited thoroughbred, diipping from the stream; with the other he made a salute full of friendly courtesy to Captain Wagner and George. " Give you good day, gentlemen," he said, in a clear and sonorous voice. As we are travelling in the same direction, perhaps you can direct me on my way. Where are we mm moment?" 14 FAIRFAX; OB, "Fll tell yon in a few words, my friend," returned Wa^ ner. " You are now in the Great Valley of Virginia, other** wise, the Shenandoah Valley, not a long way from that assemblage of huts called Winchester; what is better, con- tsddering supper, you are near Greenway Court, the residence of Thomas Lord Fairfax, baron of Cameron, and so forth and so forth — a friend of mine, who will not let you go fur ther to-night, comrade." "Good I I came to see his lordship." " Well, you have only to follow us. My name is Wagner, and my young friend is called Mr. George." The stranger saluted with a motion full of grace and frankness. " You are by no means a stranger to me. Captain," he replied, "and I am truly glad to make your acquaintance — also yours, Mr. George. My own name is Falconbridge — very much at your service." " Good, good !" said the Captain, twirling his moustache, " I like these Httle complimentary speeches : they sweeten this miserable life! WeU, comrade — and observe, I must decidedly have taken a fancy to you, as I call you * com- rade' all the time — a few mUes from here is the white post his lordship has stuck up to direct travellers to Green- way. I never see that post but the long arms seem to stretch out toward me, and a voice says, * Come on^ Wag- ner, supper is smoking I' " With these words, the worthy put spur to his horse, and set forward, his companions following and conversing. In fifteen minutes, George had completely fallen in love with the young man, whose smiles and accents, full of winning eimpHcity, won his heart. From that moment to the end of tlie drama, these two hearts were to beat in unison. Captain Wagner was meanwhile pushing on, through the taU grass of the prairie, over which stretched a narrow road, his mind absorbed in deep reflection on the subject pf supper* The last rays of sunset streaming over the great^ THE MASTER OF GREEKWAY COURT. 15 flowery expanse, failed to attract his attention ; he moved on steadily; then a grnnt was heard from the worthy, and his finger pointed to a white post, glimmering in the twi- light. From this, a good road led to Greenway Court, scarce a mile away. They followed the road ; a clump of oaks rose all at once before them and a long, low mansion, in front of which some locusts grew. The travellers had reached Greenway Court, the residence of Lord Fairfax. 1$ n. 6BEENWAT 00T7BT* EEENWAT COXJET was a long, scope bmlclmgi with an extensive portico, and the roof was over^ shadowed by the boughs of lofty locust trees. At each end rose a slender chimney ; between, upon the summit of the roof, were seen two belfries ; be- neath, three or four dormer windows were brushed by the October foliage. At fifty paces from the mansion, and connected with it by a winding path, across the sward, a low stone cabin nestled onder a great tree — and here Lord Fairfax, sitting in state, with his court of deer-hounds, had delivered the title deeds of nearly all that portion of Virginia. The grounds of the mansion were encircled. by a rude fence, and to this fence Captain Wagner proceeded to attach his horse, in which he was imitated by his com- panions. They were not, however, the first comers. Near at hand were seen two animals, tethered in the same manner; one, a plaia, substantial cob ; the other a slender-legged fiUy, cov- ered with a cloth, which evidently concealed a woman's saddle. Captain Wagner gazed intently for an instant, at the two animals, which seemed familiar to him ; pulled his moustache upward with his finger, nodded confidentially, and then went with long strides toward the house, his companions following. The mam room, which the Borderer now entered, was peculiar. It was an apartment hung around with guns, blunderbuses, antlers, portraits, fishing nets, and long tapering rods. The walls were rough and rudely plasftered THB MASTEB OV GBSENWA7 OOUBT. IT ~ihe fnmiture oaken, with the exception of two or three high-backpd, carven chairs of mahogany, then very rare ; and on some shelves in one corner, near a buffet of oak, a number of old volumes in brown leather blading were visi- ble, much worn and soiled. Among these was a fine em- bossed copy of the " Spectator," lately printed in London* to which the owner of the mansion had contributed some papers, written perhaps in the study of his friend, Joseph Addison. It wiU thus be seen that the apartment was a striking exhibition of the commingHng of two things — refinement, and rudeness , of two types, the court and the backwooda This characteristic was further apparent in the jumble of sil- ver plate, and cheap gaily-colored crockery on the buffet: and finally, the muzzle of a rifle standing in the comer had forced itself between the leaves of one of those volumes in which serene Mr. Addison discussed the last refinements of the luxurious society of England. This was the apartment which the travellers entered — to whose brpad fire-place, with its crackling sticks, they diew near. Lord Fairfax was not visible, but two other personages were seated before the fire, illuminated by the last beams of sunset streaming through the western window. The first was a gentleman past middle age, plainly clad, and with nothing striking in his appearance. The other personage, a young girl, whose figure was eminently noticeable. She was apparently about twenty, with dark hair, dark eyes and radi- ant complexion. Her bare arms, from which she had thrown the sleeves of her riding cloak, were models of symmetry, and her figure was extremely graceful She was clad richly for the border, and wore many rings upon her tapering fin- gers, but no one for a moment gave a thought , to h^r cos- tume. The remarkable face attracted all eyes. It w&s a singular face — ^the eyes dark and liquid, full of softne»*s and tre; the lips red and moist, and adapted to expre^^ fH 18 FAIBFAX; OB, emotions; the brow lofty and snow white; :h.e poise and otr riage of the head, and equally of the person, fascinating. This was the appearance of the young woman whom the stranger gazed at with surprise and admiration. Captain Wagner greeted the occupants of the apartment with the air of an old acquaintance, acquitting himself of the task of introduction with much easy unconcern, except that a keen observer might have imagined from the rude frontiers* man's manner that the lady was no favorite with him. This, however, was not seen by George or Falconbridge; at least they did not bow the less low, or smile the less courteously. See," said the Captain, stroking his beard and smiling amiably, " see what pleasant people we meet at the end of our journey, instead of my Lord Fairfax, who, I don't mind saying, is sometimes, nevertheless, an agreeable companion. Faith ! I know my good luck, friend Argal, and would rather be here than out yonder in the backwoods with some surly rascal, who crouches over a wet fire and grodges you your seat on the log, and your part of the blanket ! And then the smoke I" continued the Borderer, bending over tha blaze, and snuffing up the clouds of white smoke; "faith I it reminds me of my childhood — our chimney smoked 1" George smiled and sat down opposite the soldier; tho stranger had already taken his seat near the young lady, and had entered into conversation with her. "Well, friend Argal," said the Captain to the gentleman who held in his hand a package of papers which he had been examining, " what news on the border? Any Injuna, eh?" "Yes, Captain," said Mr. Argal, courteously, " reports are rife about them," "Reports?" " They say that there is imminent danger of an inroad soon." Humph I" replied the Borderer, — " * they say ia a greal TSE MAHTEB 07 GBESNWAT GOTTBT. 19 Kar, I need not tell you, sir. But let us not frighten the fair sex* I hope Miss Bertha is well?'* And the soldier, with a movement in tvhich a doM observer might have descried a singular coldness, turned to the young girL She simply inclined her head, and went on conversing with the stranger; toward him her air was very different. It was full of a winning grace, a fascinating favor. The Borderer did not seem to notice all tliis, but a vague sound from his stalwart chest indicated some concealed sentiment. This, however, he suppressed in a moment, and turning to Mr. Argal, he said : "I don't see my Lord Fairfax. Where is he, my dear friend?" " He is gone a-'unting, sir," said a grave and respectful voice behind the soldier, " a-'unting, if you please, sir." " Ah I here's old John !" cried the Borderer ; "glad to see you, my friend. Faith, give me your hand!" And the Captain cordially pressed the hand of the old servant. Old John was Lord Fairfax's body servant, and wore his master's livery with the exception of the coat, which was one of the earl's — ^heavily laced and ornamented. He took the offered hand of the soldier with deep respect, wad then drew back quietly, overwhelmed with the honor. "He's gone a-hunting has he — the good earl I eh? , Well, when will he return, John?" " I rayther expect him to-night, sir," said John. **GoodI — ^then you are not certain?" "No, sir; very often he is gone a day or two, sir." And John stood respectfully awaiting further questions. "Did he expect me to-day?" " I think rayther, sir." •* Very well, get me supper and beds for my friends.** Old John was in his element again; his master's hospital tty was put in requisition. *^D'reo41jr, sir — ^yes, sir," he said, going toward the fidda^ board. "Plenty o* beds, sir, for yac and your honor'a friends — d'rectly, sir 1" But Mr. Argal stopped him as he was going out. "Bring up our horses first, John,'* he said, "I have wailed as long as possible to see his lordship. It is already night Bertha." Bertha placed one hand upon her breast, and uttered a little cough. "Yes, sir," she said, "I wish we had gone sooner, I am afraid" And the young girl was interrupted by a violent fit ol coughing. "Whatl you have a very bad attack of cold," said her father. " I did not observe it before." "Yes, sir," returned the young girl, placing her hand upon her throat, and contracting her beautiful brows, as though she were suffering pain; "yes, sir, I have felt it com- ing on all day, but managed to suppress it until now. It pains me very much:" here she paused to cough again; but if you desire it, I will " A more violent fit here seized the young lady, and she coughed until she was completely exhausted, leaning back in her chair for support. Mr. Argal looked very much annbyed. "Permit me to say, sir," said Falconbridge, "that expos- ure to the night air will aggravate Miss Argal's indisposition. If possible she should remain here until " Another fit of coughing. " But I cannot — ^it will be extremely inconvenient: beddes the house here is limited in size, and '* "Don't fear, your honor," here interposed old John, who had entered with a hissing urn and a pile of platen the mo- ment before. "Don't fear, sir; plenty of room, sir. We nave two spare chambers, and several beds in them, sir; my master would never hear of your going, sir." Mr. Argal hesitated, evidently annoyed. fBM HASTSB Of OtKEEN^AT OOtTBS il "Ctettmg Tery cold, sir," added the hospitable John, re« Bpectfully, "and if it's uot presmnin', sir, the young lady, sir, is *' Here the young lady conghed distressingly. " m go if you wish, father," she said, in an artleos, un- complaining voice; "but my breast feels very badly. I don't suppose it will make me very sick — if you want to go, sir " WeU, well, daughter, we will remain," said the old gen- tleman. " If you are really unwell, all the business in the world shall not make me you take you out. See to cur horses, John," he added, " and as you say there are cham- bers, make one of the women prepare a bed for my daughter." "Yes, sir — d'rectly, sir." And old John, having set the table with the <3ase of a practiced hand, hurried out, and was heard giving orders in a magisterial tone to the negroes of the e.stablishment. Captain Wagner remained silent, gazing into the fire; his huge shoulders bending forward, as was habitual with him, and his sword striking heavily from time to time against the floor as he moved. George was looking over a map of the region, which ha had taken from the shelves; Falconbridge and Miss Arga] had resumed their conversation. The young lady's cough had disappeared. Then old John entered, marshalling in a smoking supper, borne by yoiithful Africans; and the savory odor seemed to diffuse an emotion of pleasing satisfaction through the mind of Captain Wagner. They all supped comfortably, and the Borderer was still eating when they had finished. "Faith, I'm always hungry 1" he said ; "more beef, friend John." " Yes, sir — d'rectly, sir." And old John carved rapidly. 22 ?Iore ewryttdngl" said the Oaptain. fr© jnst oosa? menced, or the devil take it/* More of everything was supplied, and at last the soldier rose, stretching himself, and yawning. " Nearly bed-time, I think I" he said. " Come, George ! give up my couch *' " Your couch, Captain ?" / " Yes, that leather chair ! Vacate I I sleep here by the^ fire; I know nothing of beds!" George smiled, and resigned his broad, sloping-backed chair. " You and the rest can take the big room," continued the Captain; " this young lady the small apartment Faith ! I know Green way Court by heart 1" And the Captain, having first piled some more wooy in the wilderness which I am entitled to, by a grant from Lord Fairfax." " Are your dreams never filled with brighter imag^ ?'* ** With brighter images ? Ah ! you mean with the forms of ladies fairl" he laughed; "no, no, I have never loved." " Then your heart is cold ?" " Oh, no 1 I think 'tis a warm one/* The young lady sighed deeply. " Why do you sigh so ?" he asked. She played with the ribbon around her waist, and looked in silence at the floor. " Only my foolish thoughts," she murmured ; " I thought — ^what a treasure it would be to me — a heart that had never loved " As she spoke she suffered the hand which played with tha ribbon to fall beside her. The hand of Falconbridge was hanging down, and the two came in collision. Mastered by a sudden and wild impulse, and forgetting every rule of etiquette, he imprisoned the snowy hand in his own, and raised it to his lips. The young lady blushed, but did not withdraw it. For an instant the eyes of the two persons met and exchanged a long, and absorbing look: — the young man's were filled with an ardent admiration, the young lady's with a languishing sweetness. "I must go now," she murmured, slowly withdrawing her hand. " Good-night 1" And with a last look, she opened the door just as the maid placed her hand on the knob. Had the young lady heard her step descending the stairs ? Falconbridge sat down, and leaning his head upon hig Hand, gazed into the dying fire. Nothing disturbed the silence but the heavy breathing of the soldier, who, stretched in his great leathern chair, had never once moved during the ooUoquj. S6 FAIRFAX, OE, " Strange I*' murmiired Falconbridge; " strange young girll r scarcely fathom her character, or understand her singulai demeanor. They tell me that I have sound intelligence, that I read men — but, pshaw I I am quite at sea with thia young girl. What a dazzling, superb beauty I Well, well — this is folly!" And he gazed again in silence into the fire. For more than half an hour he remained thus motionless — reflecting. Then turning his head, with a deep sigh, and a wistful smile he gazed at the form of the sleeping giant in the leathern ohair. " A brave man, and with a warm, strong heart under all that roughness, I see plainly !" he murmured. " How great a contrast to this beautiful young creature, does he present 1 A strange world — yes, very strange — strangest of all that I am here I" And he leaned back in his chair, and smiled. The dying fire-light Kt up his youthful face, rich costume, and brilliant eyes, making him resemble some picture of the Middle Age. He remained thus, leaning back for a few moments, and then rose. " Well, well," he said, " all this wiH have its course —but I soon pass — enough for one day." And saluting the sleeping soldier with the smiling words, " Happy dreams, companion I" he left the room, and retired to his chamber. No sooner had the door closed than the eyes of Captain Wagner slowly opened, and he looked in the direction of the door, muttering. Then his heavy moustache curled dowly toward his ears, and under the mass appeared hia large, sharp teeth. He sat up and looked at the fire. " Some people would say that I have done what is dis- honest and unsoldierly," he muttered, kicking the brands oi the fire together, " let *em I I was asleep and I woke," he added» gloomily. I believe the sound of that roioe woke THS UA&TEB OF GBEENWAT OOtJBXl 2Y His ejes were raised toward the ceiliBg, and a strange expression filled them, making them bum tinder their oh^aggy brows. " Good, good I it's well I'm here," he muttered, " and rU a>^/v» >>A hnA r*r>i rAolW wftViv^ ' <^r*nbtlAci« it wa3 a preflenti« 80 FAIBFAX* OB, ment» the eye fixed upon his face which had waked him, of rather disturbed him in his sleep. The dull eye of the Indian boy glittered, and he dre^ back into the deep shadow, out of the gleam of the fire. With a muttered " ough he touched the forefinger of his left hand with that of his right, appai*ently counting. Then his roving eye turned on all sides, and he looked tip the short, steep stairs : — his foot rested on the first step. The step was of firm oak and did not creak. The Indian mounted another step, and so, stealthily, and pausing each moment to hsten, arrived at the top. His first movement was to creep to the window opening upo'^ the roof — one of the dormer -vvindows, of which we have spoken — and raise it. From the roof of the house to that of the long porch, was but a step. Thence ne could easily glide down. Two or three dusky forms appeared for a moment in the moonlight, and then vanished beneath the solemn trees of the forest. The spy placed his hand upon the knob of Miss Argal's door, and slowly and noiselessly turned it. The door opened without sound. The moonlight streamed full upon the bed, but threw the features of the sleeper into shadow. It was evidently the aim of the Indian, however, to ascertain the numerical strength in men, of the house: and he crept stealthily, like a young panther, toward the bed. Before he could bend down close enough to see, how- ever; before his black eye and hot breath had approached her cheek, the young girl started up, and uttered a pierc- ing shriek, which rang through the house like a cry of death The Indian seized his hatchet, and catching her by the wrist, endeavored to raise the weapon and strike her. It had become twiated in his belt, and before he oonld extzv THE MASTEB OF GBEENWAY OOUBT* 31 KAte it, a noise in the opposite room caught his quick ear, and he arrived by a single leap at the window. At the same moment, the opposite door was thrown violently open, and Faloonbridge came forth quickly, full^ dressed, and hurried toward the room. The young girl, who had risen in her night-robe, ran to* ward him, threw her ai-ms round him, and sobbing, "Ok father I father !" btuied her head in his bosom. All had taken place in a moment; but that had been time enough for the soldier to rouse himself. He now appeared at the bottom of the steps, bearing in his hand a flaming torch, from the fire; and mounted with a bound which shook the flooring, " What's this ? What's this ? Speak I" he cried. The lady clung closer to Ealconbridge, burying her faci more deeply in his bosom. " Oh, father ! father !" was all which she uttered. Mr. Argal and George appeared at the door half dressed, and uttering wondering exclamations. "How, daughter? — what? how? — the meaning of this extraordinary scene ? and that noise ?" " I don't know what it means," said Captain Wagner, with a sort of ironical gloom, "but the devil eat me, if I ever saw anything as striking as that picture in all my Hfe before. And the Borderer, with a curl of his moustache, extended the huge arm bearing the torch, toward Falconbridge and the lady. "Most extraordinary!" cried the bewildered gentleman; ** why, Bertha, something has fi-ightened you I Look up ! are you aware, daughter " The young girl raised her head, and started, or pretended to start, violently at sight of Falconbridge. No one observed ill© sarcastic curl of the Captain's lip. " Oh, father I" she cried, hastily retreating into her room, oj&d drawing her drapery cxioicklj around her soIdiei'Si " Oh, It was 80 dreadful 1'' 82 ••What I— dreadful?" " Oh, yes sir — an Indian came to my bedside, and oaa^ , my wrist, and tried to kill me — oh, pir And the young girl was heard falling into a chair, and sobbing faintly. "An Indian in your room? you are dreaming, daughter I* "No, sir!" said Captain Wagner, gloomily, "your daugh- ter did not dream it I — in my sleep I dreamed, I thought — wretched animal that I am, to lie there like a hog — ^but seer And stooping quickly, the Borderer pounced upon a por- cupine quill. " Here I" he said, " here is the proof ! This is from an Injun moccasin 1 And that window I Friends, 1 for one am no fool r And the Captain hurled his torch upon the floor, and fcrod upon it with his iron heel. " To your tree 1" he cried, " Injuns 1" At the same instant a flight of arrows whistled through the air, and passing within a few inches of the soldier's head, buried themselves, quivering in the beam of the stair- ease. "Bah! no rifles 1" cried the Captain. "But they're on us I" he cried, arriving at the bottom of the stairs by a sin- gle leap, " to arms I" As he spoke, a terrific war-whoop rang through the forest, and a dozen Indians darted from the shadow, and thre"^ themselves upon the house. Captain Wagner reached the door just as it yielded to the powerful pressure of the assailants. Having no time to draw his sword, the gigantic Borderei seized one of the carved chairs, and whirling it like a straw around his head, struck the foremost Indian a blow so ter rible, that it literally drove him through the crowd behind him, maimed and bloody. Set on fire by the sight of blood, and deyonred with bis old farjr of battle, the Borderer, without waiting for hia oom- panions, rushed into the midst of the assailants, whirling his broken weapon around his head, and bearing all before him. The Indians endeavored in vain to strike him — his gigan- tic stature and sweep of arm bore them down: — they nncon- Bciously drew back. The movement brought the Borderer into the moonlight; which streamed full upon his face and person. The Indians uttered a yell of rage and fear. ** Longknif e !" burst from the crowd, and they retreated before the soldier with almost superstitious awe. As they did so, Falconbridge, Mr. Argal and George rushed from the house, to the Captain's succor, and behind them appeared the affrighted domestics with pale faces, and uttering exclamations. The Indians, spite of their numbers, lost heart — ^retreated toward the forest — and with cries of rage dived into its gloomy depths, and fled, followed by the chance-aimed balls of their enemies. Captain Wagner drew back, bending down, panting, and knitting his brows. "I counsel a return to the house, friends!'* he said " youH lose nothing; all's done !" And he turned toward the doc;r. Dii^ectly in bis path lay the Indian he had struck upon the head — stunr - 1, bleeding, and insensible. "Take the black devil in; he/s not ui i'' said the sol- dier to the servants, "and secure window!'* The Indian was borne into ihr Luase; every one followed, ftnd doors and windows were secured. " A very pretty httle scrimmage," said the soldier, curhng his huge moustache and throwing some sticks upon the fir^ •* oughl you copper colored devil 1" And he pushed the body of the Indian with his foot. The Captain looked at laim more closely* 2^ FAZETAX; OB, Playing dead/' lie said, contemptuously. * Oh no ! he's dead," said George, "look 1 that brand haa rolled against his foot !" "Bah! that's all you know, master George," said th^ Captain. ^ And bending over the Indian, the soldier kicked away the brand, and said " speak 1" The Indian remained motionless. "Well if you're dead, my friend. 111 have ycnr scalp I" And the Captain seized the Indian violently by the lock of hair upon the top of his head. The eyes opened and he made a violent, though feeble effort to spring up. In an instant the Borderer was upon his breast and his hands were securely tied. " Now speak, you copper-colored devil, or you are a dead man ! Speak in the Delaware 1 I know you, and under- stand your lingo !" And bending down, the Borderer uttered some words in the tongue of the Delaware. It was some time before the soldier could extract anything from the Indian. At last he muttered a few words. The Captain rose satisfied. ^* Not a regular inroad," he said, " only a wandering par- ty. I gathered that from the lies he tells me. Now my friends be good enough to put this worthy in the cellar and double lock the door, first tying his hands securely. Mj part is over, and I'll sleep." His direction was obeyed, and very soon the Indian cap- tive was safe in the vault beneath, where Lord Fairfax kept his liquors. No one retired again. By common consent the affrighted domestics huddled together in one comer of the apartment —and the visitors arranged easy-chairs in the most conven- ient manner for sleeping. Soon every one sank into un- easy slumbar — except Captain Wagner. That worthy's ro- poee, in hiB great chair before the fire, was as deep as bef or6i THE MASTER OF GREEKWAY COURT. 35 From time to time, he would growl and grunt it is true ; but this was habitual with him. There were two other exceptions to the above statement, i'alconbridge and Miss Argal slept neither easily nor un- easily. They conversed in a low tone in one corner of the room : — when the first rays of dawn entered the apartment they were still conversing in the same low murmuring tones. THE ESOAPS. HE morning brought light and cheerfolnasi The sleepers aroused themselves; Miss Argai re- tired for a time, to make her toilet, and soon all had re-assembled in the large apartment where a plentiful breakfast was smoking upon the hospitable board. Suppose we have the Injun rascal up," said Captain Wagner. " I think the sight of his copper-colored mug will give me a better appetite/* And every one acquiescing in this suggestion, the Border* er directed several of the servants to lead up the prisoner. They promptly left the apartment^ and Wagner turned tc Fjilconbridge. Do you know, my dear comrade," he said, that I think yeu are the pearl of gallants ?" " Pray, how ?" asked the young man, smiling. " Why, you came so promptly to Miss Argal's assistance last night, that you shamed us all, companion." Falconbridge smiled again, and said : " I deserve no praise. Captain. I had not retired. I was sitting at the window thinking, as I often do — a bad habit I confess — when Miss Argal screamed. To go to hor assist- ance was surely natural." "Dooms naturall" said the Capt in, pushing up hia black moustache ; " and Miss Bertha needed you." " I — thought — it was — father,'* repHed the young lady col- oring. "Good, good I We're not expected to see in the dark,* was the Borderer's sardonic answer ; and when InjonA are THE BCASTER OF GREENWAY GOUBT. 87 abont, a woman may run into the arms of the first fighter she sees — faith, 'twas a pretty picture !" A suppressed flash of the young lady's eye seemed to ir - dicate that she discovered in these words something more than they expressed : but otherwise she betrayed no emo- tion. "Well, well," added the Borderer, "let ns think of the rascal we caught. I'm mistaken if we don't get out of him the real meaning of this Httle scrimmage in the dark—which I think was a wandering party only, that is safe a score oi miles away by now in the Southwest Mountains." Old John appeared at the door, as the words were uttered — ^hifi face elongated, his eyes full of meaning. " "Where's the copper-colored rattle-snake— the serpent caied Wagner. "Gone, sirl clean gonel" said the old body servant, hold' ing up both hands. Captain Wagner rose with sudden energy, and hastened to the cellar, followed by his companions. " Gone, as I'm a man 1" he cried, twisting his moustache, "Look I Falconbridge, he got through there, the snake 1" And the speaker pointed to a low window from which two rusty iron bars had been wrested by main force. " He managed to get his hands loose, and by this time is at the end of the world. I'm a hog not to see better to hisi tying up 1" And having thus unburdened his mind, the Captain slowly retired from the cellar, shaking his head, and returned to the breakfast-room. The sight of the smoking meal seemed to restore his equanimity ; and his huge nostrils evidently ex- perienced the utmost pleasure in snuffing up the savory odor of the rich broils and hashes. " Faith I something yet remains 1" was the philosophic re mark of the worthy ; " life is not gloomy when a man can eat as I am going to. Come friends, let us get to work I" And first regaling himself with a huge gulp from the pun- w Aim AX; OB, gent " dram * which old John had concocted, the Borderer applied himself with energy to the business before him. 14 was a spectacle full of interest to see the piles of edibles dis- appear before him. Not until almost everything had fan- iahed did the Captain lean back in his chair, like a son oi Anak, twist his moustache, and open his lips for the pur pose of conversation. The movements of the entire party were discussed, an very soon every one had determined upon his plans of the day. There was not the least danger of any attack from the Indians, said the Captain, in broad day, out of the woods : but his intention was to scour the surrounding country, and pick up every detail. George declared he would go with him. And T," said Falconbridge, " shall accompany Miss Algal as far as her home, if she will permit me." I shall be very glad," said the young lady, looking at him with her strangely fascinating glance. Then casting down her eyes, she added, " but pray do not let me inconvenience you." " *Tis none, I assure you," he replied. Captain Wagner htia spoken to me of a certain ' Van Doring's Ordinary ' in the same direction, and here I purpose stopping until I ar- range some business with my Lord Fairfax." With these words, Falconbridge offered his hand to the young lady to assist her in mounting her horse, which stood ready at the steps. The young girl's hand was ungloved like his own, and — could he be mistaken? — did the softj slender fingers press and cling to his own, as if she would retain the hand of the youth? His eyes filled with sudden jdght, and mounting his glossy white i/hroughbred, he can- tered off joyfully by the side of the young iady Mr Argal following more leisurely upon his cob. " What a noble face I" said George, looking aftei them ** Do you know. Captain, that I can't help loving hin ^ •*Whof Falconbridge r THE MASTER Of GREENWAY OOUBTi 39 w Yea — thoagh I've known him less than a day.* " Well, you*re right. 'Tis as fine a head as ever I saw on human shoulders. There's only one fault I can see in it — not enough of gray hairs." " Gray hairs !" " Yes, my young friend ; he's too grand and true and un suspecting. All that won't ans-wer in this miserable world, that's fuU of snakes, Injuns, rascals, and deception. Don't ask me what I mean — I never mean anything. Let us rath- er take a drink of this fine October air, that is better by far Cihan twenty year old Jamaica, or I'm a dandy !" And the Borderer inhaled the breezy atmosphere, drink- ing in life at every pore His eye wandered over the great landscape of prairie, forest, mountain, and river, variegated by the shadows of vast floating clouds ; and his whole face glowed with pleasure. "His lordship's got a splendid country here, friend George," he said : " I envy him the look he's taking at it now." Lord Fairfax?* "Yes, he's in the mountams yonder, 'upMng,i3LS the wortny John says — is this good Baron of Cameron, and Earl of Fairfax. When we shall see him, the devil only knows. He's a perfect Nimrod, a wild Injun on the trail of game, a real iron fellow, or Fm a dandy. I expect him back at Christmaa —not before!'* A sonorous neigh arrested the Captain's remarks, and two servants led up "Injunhater" and George's sorrel. They were soon in the saddle, and the Borderer paused only to give old John his parting injunctions. " Tell my Lord Fairfax, if he comes back before dinner, that I'm coming too — ^Injuns and wild beasts to the contrary notwithstanding. Also friend George, who rides with me. And hark you, John, have up some of that old Jamaica that wq know about — and one of the old hams, a round of beef some 40 FAIRFAX; OR, fowls, and other trifles. You know I'm one of the family — good day, my friend." And leaving old J ohn bowing hospitably and respectfully the companions set forward. We shall not accompany them, as nothing in the shape of an adventure befell them. After a wide circuit around the Greenway Court domain, they came to the conclusion that the wandering party of Indians had hastily fled from the re- gion into the western mountains. They accordingly re- turned to Greenway to dinner, and rest. The Earl had not made his appearance — nor had Falconbridge. THB KkfflEB 07 GKEENWAT OOURL 41 YL 0APTiJ3i L0NGKNIFE*8 PBIVATB MATTEBSU N the next morning, Captain Wagner and George were again in the saddle — but this time they had determined to take diflFerent routes. The young man wished to explore the wonders of the prai- rie toward the South ; the Borderer's design was to visit Ms friends at the Ordinary which Falconbridge had selected for a stopping-place. "I'll go swill some Jamaica with Van Doring/' said the worthy Captam, " and you, George ? ^towaid the Fort Mountain ?" " Yes I It seems to draw me, it is so beautiful I" "Good! how your eyes do sparkle 1 Youth I youth 1 what 91 fine thing it is : like a fresh horse with a fail feed I But look oat for the Injuna" "Tm not afraid.'* "I see that plainly, and youVe got a proud-looking head there, George, my son. Don't let *em scalp you. I assure you, on my honor, it will ruin your appearance for life." And saluting wi^h his hand, the gigantic warrior set for- ward on his heavy black chargei toward Van Doring's. The Ordinary wa,s but a few miles from Greenway, and the pai'tisan, advancing rapidly through the tall grass of the prairie, and beneath the drooping boughs of the forest, waa not long in reaching his destination. It was one of those large, oddly-fashioned tayems which are still found at Virginia cross roads. This one was tba 42 FAHtFAX; OB, half- way liotise, so to speak, between the Lowland and the Frontier. It was constructed of hewn logs, the interstices of which were filled with rough plaster , in front extended a long rude porch ; before the door was a horse rack and drinking trough. As Captain Wagner drew near he perceived standing ai the door a sort of covered wagon, which seemed to have aiv rived but a few moments before. He was looking at it care- lessly, when all at once Falconbridge issued from the tavern, and courteously offered his hand to a buxom dame who waa on the point of getting out of the vehicle. "La! thank you, sir," said a simpering and complaisant voice, which made Captain Wagner suddenly start : but this start was of so ambiguous a character that it was not plain whether the soldier's emotion sprang from surprise, pleasure, or dissatisfaction. But immediately the Captain threw himself from Injunhater, whose bridle a stable boy received ; and before the lady, with Falconbridge's assistance in front, and that of a travelling companion behind, could emerge from the vehicle, the gallant Captain had received into his own the hand yet imappropriated, and kissed it with chivalrio courtesy and devout respect. Falconbridge turned his head and saw his companion. "Good-morrow, Captain," he said with a smile. The buxom lady, finding her hand in contact with a bearded hp, and pressed by pahns of martial strength, ut- tered a little affected cry and raised her modestly down- cast eyea "Captain Wagner!" she said, with an exhibition of great irarprise: "Captain Wagner!" "At your service a thousand times, madam," said th« Borderer, "now and ever, or may the devil — hum! How do I find you here, madam ?" The portly dame descended from her vehicle, smiling on the Captain and the Stranger, and sending backward a Par- thian glance at every moment to her companion who had THB MAflTEB OF QBEENWAT COTOl 43 not yet descended. Her eyes were well adapted to this species of employment, as they were brit/ht ud cheerful, and her whole face was equally good-humored. She was, or seemed to be, about tliirty-i^ .j, and was clad in a fashion rather more gaudy than tasteful. Her companion was a little dried-up Frenchman, dres^e ' in a worn-out Court suit of the fashion of the time, and haT ing on his head a cocked hat. He seemed to be in an agon; of perplexity whether to drop the reins, a band-box and t shawl which he held in his right hand, or an old black vioJiri which he carried carefully in his left. The lady ran forward with quite girlish vivacity to greet an old fat German, who at the moment emerged from the Ordinary ; and then with a shower of backward glances more bright than ever, which glances were directed towai^ds Captain Wagner and his companion, entered the tavern, closely followed by her shawl-carrying, much perplexed French body-guard. Having reached the landlord's side, she clasped the old German so tightly that he found it ut- terly impossible to greet Wagner in any other manner than with the two sonorous words — *'W"ell, GaptainT' The Captain stood for a moment looking after her, with an expression of amazement seldom seen upon his martial features. For once in his life he seemed to be taken completely by surprise ; and hesitated before he followed the enemy. " Who would have dreamed it!" he said, pushing up his shaggy moustache; "she was Miss — beautiful ]VIiss — Yan Doring before espousing the lamented Butterton down yon- derl" And a sort of chuckle shook the stalwart breast of the Borderer. "Well, well! Luck has declared for me!" he muttered •*rm losing time." " Lose a moment more with me, Captain," said Falcon FAIBFAX; OB, brid^ ; and laying his hand upon the Borderer's shonlclex he added, " What a noble morning !" The Borderer shook the hand of the young man cordially and said : " Glori JUS 1 comrade : really amazing is this splendid morning — and faith I on my word I I think you suit it I" how is that?" " Whjy you are as bright and jolly as the sunshine." Falconbridge laughed, stretched himself, and yawned. "I am fresh enough," he rephed, " and you seem not at all fatigued." " Fatigued! I beheve you, comrade. A pretty thing for an old dog like myself, that has grown to the saddle, — whose legs are getting crooked, faith 1 on that account — to talk about fatigue ! But let us dismiss the subject of legs. You are stopping here ?" Yes, tiU I see Lord Fairfax." ^ " Well, you'll have a pleasant lady guest.** " This lady ? What is her name ?" The Captain looked cunning, and hesitated before answer- ing this query. " Come," added Falconbridge, " am I not to know who the lady is — her simjjle name ?" " I doubt whether it would be politic for me to tell you, comrade," said the Captain, shaking his head. Falconbridge laughed. "Pohtic? How so?" " I would have necessarily to enlarge upon her character, her loveliness, her advantages, as the miserable cant is — her desirabilities : her thousand claims to regard, respect and 3idmiration 1" *'Ah ?" lauoflied the young man ; "well, why not?" The Captain sliook his head. You're a dooms good looking fellow," he said. "Oh r— The truths comrade ; and if you add to this the fact tlot THE KASTEB 07 aBESSTWAT 00T7BT. 46 you seem to have much time on your hands at present — by which I mean that your business does not seem prescing — the motive for my caution will be plain/* The motive, eh "Tou might fall in love with this fair widow Butterton-— my pleasant acquaintance down in the town of Belhaven, which I'm told they are going to dub Alexandria, where 1 came from. See, now, Fve let the whole thing slip out." And Captain Wagner pretended to regard his conduct with supreme contempt. Falconbridge only laughed and said ; " I beheve you are in love, eh, Captain ? "Well, I wish you good luck." His companion groaned. " There's no such thing for me, comrade. I'm defeated, repulsed, driven off ignominiously !" " You have paid your addresses to the fair widow and failed r " Something like it. I really believe that you have guessed the state of things to a hair. I thought from the first, Fal- conbridge, that you were a man of discrimination." " And this is really so ?" laughed the young man, amused by the Borderer's lugubrious expression ; you have really proposed and been discarded ?" " Precisely, my friend, precisely : you have guessed rightly. Yes ! I was overcome, subjugated, compelled to lay down my arms : ignominiously, miserably, — I, who have Hved in the midst of battles, who have heard the cohorns roaring from year's end to year's end — the muskets rattling here, on the border, everywhere ; I who have married twice, and each time paragons of women ! I thought I knew the sex tolerably well, and I was mistaken. Vain thought for any man to imagine he has found the key of woman ! Open one lock, a^nother, then another, the next one baffles all your skill, defies all your cunning — which word I use in its ancient and oommendable sense — ^laughs at all your exertionsi 1^ in- FAIRFAX; tm, ieed, locks erer laugh.. And now I was that benighted in* dividual ; I thought I knew their wards, and springs, and windings, and turnings : I was mistaken ; and here I am a mortified and humbled man, or if not that, a beaten man at least, or may the — hum ! no swearing V* ** Come, Captain/' replied Falconbridge, who with difficul- ty refrained from laughing, so melancholy were the tones of the soldier's voice, "better luck next time I You have a fine opportunity to make up your losses." " I find I have, indeed." '* Avail yourself of it." '* I will," said the Borderer, with great cheerfulness. ** As to finding a rival in me, you need not have any team on that point, Captain," said Falconbridge, laughing. "I'm on the wing — soon pass. In a month I will not only be gone, but forgotten." " Faith! no." "No, what?" "TouTl not be forgotten. For 111 remember you, com- rade, as one of the most gallant-looking fellows I ever knew." Falconbridge laughed again and held out his hand. " You are determined to make me a partisan of yours, Captain," he said. " No, not at all ! I like you, my dear comrade, and I can't conceal my thought. If I'm angry I growl ; if I'm pleased I laugh — ^I conceal nothing because I can't, faith ! No : don't fear Captain Longknife, who, whatever may be his faults — and he has a few — is not the man to flatter. If you fear any- body, let it be the man or the woman who smiles on you, and holds out a friendly hand, while the other is under his or her cloak, clutching the knife that will stab you I" And the Borderer for a moment looked gloomy. As to Falconbridge, he laughed gaily at this ominous speech, and playing with his rich swordhilt said carelessly : Fm not afraid, and I think two can play at the catting THE MISTEB OP GREENWAY OOUKT. game I Nevertheless, thanks, Captain, for the interest yon ] feel. I am going now to a different sort of combat — to en- 1 oonnter perhaps a more dangerous enemy." And Falconbridge with a laugh looked westward. " I know you are,** said Wagner, gazing at his companion \ wistfully. I "There comes Sir John, as fresh as a dew drop." j " A fine animal : and you are going, I don't doubt ** — \ "To see the fair Miss Bertha? Yes, indeed. What a ■] Bplendid beauty 1" ' Yes, very splendid : remember what 1 said just now." "What did you say?" \ "I said beware of smiles; distrust the hand thrust into your own ; take care of the knife !" And refusing to say another word, the Captain with a sul- len movement of his head went into the house, his fore- | head bent thoughtfully toward the ground and overshad* ( owed. Falconbndge stood looking at him for a moment in si- lence, and then laughing silently, nodded his head upward and downward with the muttered words : \ "Yes, yes! a queer genius — a great dreamer ! The 'smile, j the ' knife ' — * take care of them !' Oh yes ! he jests with me ; but he's a good comrade and I Wvu't complain. Good mom }. ing, good Sir John! A fair sunshine for us, and I hope you { are refreshed. Ho! comrade!" < And the young man vaulted into the saddle laughing. He ; gathered up the reins, threw a coin to the respectful hostler, \ and set forward gaily toward th« west. ] "What an oddity, the Captain!" he added, "with hit knives and warnings! Forward, Sir John! we are ex- j pected 1" And he put spur to the fine animal, who set forward more rapiUy than before. i 46 FAIBVAX; OB. m THE CAPTAIN RENEWS THE ATTACK. ilPTADT WAGNER entered the Or iinary shak- ing his head mysteriously, but his reflections were all at once banished by the sight of the fair Mrs. Butterton, who was seated gracefully upon a cane-bottomed chair, conversing. The Captain joined in the conversation with an easy air, and soon the visit of the lady to the Valley became the topic. The explanation was simple. The settlers of the region, Lord Fairfax at the head of them, had determined to organize a county gov- ernment ; and the question at the moment was, the locahty of the county-seat. For this honor, the two microscopic vil- lages of Stephensburg and Winchester were candidates ; and as Mrs. Butterton chanced to possess a number of lots in and about Winchester, she was naturally desirous that their value should be enhanced by the selection of that place for the seat of government. The fair widow concluded her sensible explanation by taking from a reticule, which hung jauntily upon her arm, a number of documents, which she gracefully banded to the Borderer. Captain Wagner looked at the papera and pondered ; then pushing up his martial moustache, he said to the widow : "I admire your business talent, my dear madam ; what a mte you would make ! what an admirable wife 1 I shall re- commend my friends to come and mfike themselves agreea* ble." *LaI Captain, you are jesting/' said the lady, covering her face affectedly with her fan. THE MASTER O? otEEENWAT OOUBT. * Jesting? Jest on such a subject — ^neverl** "Ton are a sad joker I" "Not with you.'* "Why not with me?" "I know not, my dear madam, except it been aoeonntol that high respect I have for you." "Flatterer!" " That friendship, that regard — that, I may say, hum- that, yes, that " — Captain Wagner finished the sentence with a look which spoke volumes. The widow fairly blushed. "What are you talking about, daughter and Qaptain?" said the old German, coming up, "not fell out, I hope." "Oh, far from it, father!" said Mrs. Butterton, laughing. *She is a great rattle-drap at times. Gap tain," continued the landlord, "and full of all sorts of notions. Here ia Moimseer Jambo, for instance — come here to deach danc- ing." " He is a fine artist, father,** said Mrs. Butterton. "Hum!" said Captain Wagner, "he seems to be your par- ticular friend." * Oh, yes — he is a very gallant gentleman.'* Captain Wagner scowled at Monsieur Auguste Hypolite Jambot, and that gentleman chancing at the moment to raise his eyes, was nearly struck motionless by the look. Indeed, Captain Wagner was a disagreeable man to have for an enemy, so large of hmb, and terrible in arms was he ; and his scowl was one of horrible expressiveness. He looked sword, pistol and blunderbuss at the very least " I have no doubt that Monsieur Jambot is gallant, mad- am," said he; "thiii he has proved by condescending to accompany you hither." " Come, you look at Monsieur Auguste as if you did not Kke him," said Mrs. Butterton. **Not like him, madam?" said Captain Wagner, bringing 8 60 down his great, gloved hand on the table; ''that's trael I do not like Frenchmen.*' "And I" said Monsieur Jambot, rising and bristling ap at these words, "I do not like, no, I have no liking fo* capitaines, begar V* Captain Wagner touched his sword instinctively, but re- flecting that a quarrel, and combat with so diminutive a gentleman, and on so slight a provocation, was out of the quesiion, withdrew his hand, and only scowled again on Monsieur Jambot. Having thus terminated the conversation as far as the dancing-master was concerned, Captain "Wagner turned, with great good humor and cheerfulness, to Mrs. Butterton, who had counterfeited excessive trepidation: but who, see- ing matters thus amicably arranged, was again all smiles. " My dear madam," said he, " the sight of you to-day has rejoiced me — and you were right in telling me your busi- ness. I shall assist you in that business: I will, madam !" " La ! thank you. Captain," said the lady. "I will, madam," said Captain Wagner, solemnly. "I pledge you my word that Winchester shall, on your account, be the seat of Justice of the county of Frederick." The widow regarded Captain Wagner with a tender glance; — not so much in return for his promised services — to do her justice be it said, — as in requital of his devotedness. " For your sake," said the Captain, in a tone inaudible to the rest of the company, "I would do far nore." "You are very disinterested. Captain," murmured the lady. " Disinterested? Not so, faith I" said the Borderer; " re- member what I say I" And having overwhelmed the fair widow by this unmis- takable avowal, Captain Longknife directed another scowl, far more terrible than the former ones, at Monsieur Jambot v^ho was still tuning his fiddle; and turned the conversatioQ npoin indiffisrent topies. THE MASTEtl OF GREEKWAY COURT. 51 The lady smiled, the old German smoked, the dancing- master meditated a solo, or frowned with lofty dignity at his rival. Thus some hours passed,and then the Captain, pleading business with Lord Fairfax, took his departure. It is unnecessary for us to say, that like a stalwart soldier, the huge Enceladus had returned unterrified to the attack, with better knowledge of the enemy he assaulted, and a fixed determination to be victor in the struggle. FAIRFAX ; OB. vm. HOW GEORGE WAB LED BY PBOVIDENOB. ET US now return to George, who, aa the reader will find, m-^t with more adventures in hi» ride than he expected. The boy stood watching Captain Wagner until that worthy and his ebon steed were swallowed by the bright October ioliage; and then mounting his handsome sorrel left f^reenway Court, and — happy, laaghing, joyous with that rare roseate joy of youth and inexperience, and confi- dence — ^went forth toward the South, over the swaying, splendid prairie, and through the brilliant forest. Poor words ! — for what words can describe the forejits of the Shenandoab Valley in October? — what painter, even^ though he stood in stature above Titian, and the masters of all time, could place upon the canvas the resplendent glories of this noble season ? Not a mere thoughtless rhapsody is this — for in the heart of him who writes, a thousand Au- tumn scenes hVe, like memories of youth, beautiful and brilliant with the glories of the "jocund prime" of exist- ence! — so beautiful that, remembering them now, in daysi not so bright, he is thankful for the treasure given him, and living in his recollections, cares not for the present. George was still in that brilliant land of youtli— -with senses open to i'Js glories and dehghts; and so he went on joyfully, and gladly, through the golden morning, drinking in at every pore, thi splendors of the Autumn. It was one of those mornings which seem to come like 9 blessing on the earth: when the azure sky, piled up with 9DOwy clouds, droops down upon a world of beauty ; wboQ THE MASTEE Off GBEEKWAY OOURT. 53 the cool breath of joyful winds sweeps across hill and val- ley, with a murmurous laughter, as of myriads of merry goblins,let loose for a holiday,and reveling in their freedom. The variegated foliage of the waving forest, like the banners of every nation met in leaguer around the battlements of the noble mountains, shone in the clear sunlight, and the rich prairie waved its gorgeous flowers from end to end of the great valley. To George, the Autumn did not present an aspect of mournfulness or decay: rather of full-handed, ripe, and matured beauty His eye dwelt with delight upon the forest, with its magical colors; his roving and bright glances penetrated the white, delicate mist which, clearly relieved against the mountain, lay,hke a milky cloud along the wind- ing river: — the boy's heart filled with youthful joy and romance. As he approached the mountain, the blue gi-adiuilly changed to green; the undefined shadowy giants stood out in bolder relief, with rocky shoulders, and belts of haughty pines; — and then, after an hour's rapid riding straight on, he had approached so near, that it seemed to him an easy thing to push his horse up the slope, and gain the inviting summit. George had, however, yet to learn that nothing is more deceptive than the apparent distance between the beholder and the great towering sentinel of Nature. He was yet a considerable distance from the mountain, and in his path lay an obstacle not to be despised — the tree-fringed river. As George drew near the river, and went along under the bright foliage of the lofty trees, a thousand woodland sighta and sounds were around him. On the prairie the land- scape was wild and undisturbed; ho had heard no sound, but tie far resounding cry of the crane as he rose from some streamlet's bed; had seen nothing but such air-wanderera as swept the blue sky on long stately wings, far up among the oloudB — fo" the most part all was still, and calmi and M msit as rmdisturbed as the landscape untoucked as f et hj the foot of man. But now all was changed; the forest seemed inetincfc with life, and joy, and beauty. Long vines fell in bright festoong from the trees, and ii these vines did not exhale the deHcate perfume with which they flooded the forests in May morn- ings, they still were beautiful \* ith their flaunting garlands and fantastic outlines. The pines were full of whisperings, as though the moun- tain wind would never have done telling them its secreta The oaks, yellow and taa. The dogwood brilliant with its crimson clustering berries. The alder-tree, like safliron. and the hickory, yellow, but still strong, and graceful as a youthful giant — all were full of life and motion, and the voice of birds. At distant openings the young man caught sight of more than one flying deer, and on the far mountain-side he saw distinctly a herd of huge elk galloping, as is their wont, into the verdiu'ous, undiscovered depths of the deep glens. As he approached the sloping bank of the river, an otter showed his brown nose, and bead-like eyes, then dived, making circles as he disappeared in the bright water; and at the noise a flock of wild geese, who had been feeding in the tall flags, rose up with a shrill clanging scream, and soared away, far into the bright clouds, on snowy wings, toward the South. George reined up his horse and gazed with dehghted eyes on the tranquil stream, whose surface, scarce broken into ripples by the gentle wind, mirrored the drooping boughs of the crimson and golden-leafed trees, and white floating clouds. The woodland sights and sounds dehghted him — the freshness and wild grace of the fair nook with its green grass, and tree-trunks and fresh water, charmed him; —never had he seen so beautiful a landscape. As he sat quietly in his saddle, gazing at the bright watfiTi trmk which, at intervals, the " fall flab " leaped into the airj miR MASTEE OF iJREENWAY COURTL 66 his attention was attracted by a figure upon the opposite side of the river, which at this point was not very wide. This figure was that of a girl of about fiiteen, who waft evi- dently gathering flowers. For the purpose of reaching the water-blossoms, growing far down in the shady nooks, near the sin-face of the stream, she stooped very carelessly over — so carelessly at times, tha Gteorge, who, unseen himself amid the foliage, was watching her, feared every moment that her foot would slip, and she would be precipitated into the stream. I ut the little maiden took her way along the steep and dangerous bank with the care and skill of one practiced in roadside wander- ing; and her basket was soon full of fall flowers, which she paused to gaze at with evident satisfaction. The boy looked at her for a moment, as she stood in the sunlight — glad to have seen this ixe^h woodland picture. He then turned the head of his horse, dismissed the little maiden fi'om his mind with a careless conjecture as to her presence in that wild scene, and gazing at the clouds, was about to continue his way. As he touched his horse with the spur, a cry suddenly resounded in his ears — a cry oi alarm and helplessness — and wheeling round, he saw at one rapid glance that his fears had been realized. The little maiden had boldly ventured out upon a large, moss-covered log, at the end of which grew a magnificent cluster of yellow primroses; and this log having turned, she had lost her footing. When George saw her she was just losing her btdance; and her cry of terror scarcely reached his ears, when she dropped her basket, and fell into the stream. George was one of those persons who never hesitate or lose their presence of mind — whom no sudden surpriBe affects. The gill had scarcely touched the water before the boy with a violent stroke of the spur, had driven his horse ixit< the river, and was svdmmlog vigorously and rapidly toward M rintfAX; oft, EL HOW GBOBaS MADB THE AOQUAINTAJlOB OF OANHOL HE girl seemed to feel that a friend was conuQij to her rescue, for her head was turned even in the midst of her struggle against the watery death which threatened her, toward the boy. Her garments at first afforded her some support, and George thought he could easily reach her; but this hope began to disappear, and his trembling lips and flushed face showed his desperate anxiety. His eyes burned, and lean- ing forward on his animal, he devoured the sinking form with his looks, and struck the animal with his hand to has- ten its speed. Before he had arrived within twenty yards of the young girl, the water began rapidly to fill her clothing, and thus to add its own weight to the weight of her body. She grad- ually sank lower and lower; her long, chestnut hair rested on the water, and the waves toyed with it. Nothing but the bright face was now visible; the small, bare arms were raised above the water; and a cry for help issued from the child's hps. George felt his throat choke; hia eyes seemed to be starting from his head; his hands trembled hke a leaf. Again a faint cry came from the child'a lips — again the small arms beat the water; but the effort only hastened her fate. A wave passed over her head while George was stiQ ten feet from her, panting, overcome with horror and despair. Then she was gone I snatched from him I suffocated with^ in his rerj sight I He uttered a grooD of deqpair* Bat rax MASTHB OF GEHSEN WAT COXTRF. 87 suddenly he seemed to feel that one oonrse was left hinii' he might still save her. He threw aimself from the saddle into the stream; passed over the space which separated them with half a dozen strokes, and came to hei side. A o^irl of hair, before he was conscious of it, glided into hifl hand, and the next moment the girl was in his arms, her pale face lay upon his shoulder, and he swam with his al* most lifeless burden to the shore. George raised her in his arms, as though she had beau an infant, and bore her to a grassy bank. Here, he used every means to restore her to consciousness, and at the end of ten minutes had the inexpressible satisfaction of seeing her open her eyes. " Oh, sir 1 I was nearly drowned, was I not ?" she mur- mured. " Yes, indeed you were," said George, gazing kindly on the little face. "Did you save me?'* said the girL " I believe I did," said George, smiling, to keep up hflV spirits; "you fell into the water, and " " Oh, yes 1 I remember all now — oh, me 1" And with a shudder, the girl closed her eyes, overeome by the recollection. "Don't think about it any more," said the boy; "it will agitate you. And you ought not to keep these wet dothefl on — ^you ought to go home at once. And I must aak yon your name, and where you live." The girl sighed, and said, faintly : " My name is Cannie Powell, and we live up in the Fort Mountain, sir." "Very far?" " Oh, no, not very, sir.** "Don't oaU me «ir," said George, smiling; "Fm only a boy, and it seems so constrained; my name is George." The lips of the girl moved as though she were in^irassiQg thft name forever upon her mamoxy. 8» 08 FAHUTAX; OB, Ton ought to go home at once now/** he saidi *• I w£D go and catch my horse, and we will return together.** The girl's cheeks colored, and she murmured : "You are yeij kindl But I ought not to — ^yon ware going " " Nowhere 1 nowhere in the world; if I had been, I know my duty as a gentleman." And George raised his head with simplicity; and casting a last look toward Cannie, wdnt to search for his horse. The intelligent animal had not wandered far. Emerging lErom the water, after being abandoned by his master, he had quietly commenced feeding on the long grass — and now allowed himself to be recaptured easily. George led him back to the spot where the girl sat, and throwing one stirrup over the saddle, helped her to mount, in spite of many protestations that she could easily walk. The boy only smiled, and with the air of an elderly protector, icd the animal by the bridle, along the narrow road, through the rugged gorge. To the music of the brawling Passage Creek they thus entered the VaUey of the Fort. Glancing often back at his little charge, the youth now took in every detail of her face and figure. Long chestnut hair feU in moist, rich curls around a delicate face, with large, hazel eyes, rosy cheeks, and lips full of a grave sweet- ness and simpHcity. There was sometliing fresh and pure in every trait of the countenance, and the slender form pos- sessed a childish grace and attraction. She was not clad like the daughter of a woodman, and this fact had very soon attracted George's attention. The fabric of her dress waa almost rich, although greatly worn; traces of embroidery were visible upon the skirt; and around her neck the girl wore a string of very beautiful pearls. Her small feet were cased, it is true, ia rough, high-reaching shoes; but her white stockings were of the ^nmt silk; and her hands had evidently never been acquainted with toiL Thaee singular pecoliaxitiesof the girrsdr^fis atiraoted^ as THE MA8TEB OF GBEElSrWAT OOUET. 59 176 have said, the attention of her companion; but he did not dwell on them as strongly as he would have done, had he lived longer in the wild country which they were traversing, whose inhabitants stiU wore such rude costumes. He waa looking at the sweet face which riveted his eyes, and he gazed at her so intently that the girl colored under hig look. George saw that the blush was occasioned by hia glance, and immediately looked away, and commenced talk- ing — the girl replying with her grave sweetness, in which he found a singular charm. They thus took their way along the wooded road, and soon disappeared behind the huge trees. Had George chanced to look back as the road turned a great mossy rock, be would have seen something to startle him. As the two forms disappeared, the red leaves of an immense oak sJightly rustled — a swarthy face peered care- fully out — and the next moment an Indian, who had lain close at b)]) length on one of the great limbs, dropped noiselessly to the ground. He was a young man, apjDarently about twenty-three, with a slender figure, bare to the waist His nervous limbs were cased in fringed leggings of doeskin; his feet in moccasins, profusely decorated with the quills of the porcupine — and above his forehead nodded a plume of bright-colored feathers, the badge of a chief. In his bear- ing there was something noble and impressive; and as he stood for a moment leaning with crossed arms, bare like his chest, rrpon a long cedar bow, he presented an appear- ance eminently attractive for its wild and graceful beauty. The young In i.m looked gravely in the direction taken by George and Cannie — threw a quick glance toward the nky — then murmuring something in a low voice, which was rery musical and sad, set forward with the rapid pace of a hunter, on the path which they had followed. He saw them mount the winding road, and approach a little moun- tain dweUing. Then, as if satisfied that further watching was n^ess, he sighed, plunged into the forest again, and vaa lost in the shadow of the autumn foliage FAiBFiJL: cm, X. A SINGULAB PERSONAGE. ROTJKD the small house upon the side of the mountain, the finest tints of autumn seemed to cluster. The great oaks were like pyramids of crimson; the tufted pines, resembling the tall tropic palms, which wave their gigantic plumes in the breezes of the Indian ocean, rose clear and beautiful against the sky — and over all fell the rosy haze of autumn like a happy dream. The house was of logs, rough-hewn, and with clap-boarda for a roof; the windows small, and evidently constructed with an eye to defence; the stone chimney in the rear leaned, as it were, against a huge mass of rock, fringed with close-set shrubbery. Flowers of autumn were in bloom beside the low door — and the whole mansion had about it an indefinable air, which seemed to indicate the presence oi a woman or a child. George assisted Cannie to the ground, and fixing the bridle of his horse to a bough, followed hex into the house. The room which they entered was simply furnished, but scrupulously neat; some books were lying on the rude shelf used as a mantel-piece; and the whole apartment was very cheerful and attractive. As Cannie entered, an old man came to meet her; and the eyes of this personage were fixed upon her companion with an intentness which was for the moment not at all agreeable. They seemed to look through him, and that, without the least effort, and in an instant. Then the expression of the old man*s face changed; he greeted the boy with coUeoted oouriesy; and when Ownic^ ttOI MASTER OF OREENWAT OOUBfC $1 in a broken and agitated voice, spoke of her accident and rescue, the old man's expression changed more and more, and with a slight color in his pale cheeks, he held out hid hand, and grasped that of George with the warmest grati- tude. George scanned the figure of his host; and this scrutiny evidently resulted in a manner similar to that former one in regard to the child. The old man was evidently no rude backwoodsman; his countenance and eyes wore the unmis- takable stamp of the student, and the man of intellectual cultivation; and even in his dress the same difference was discernible. He was clad in a suit which had once been rich, and still exhibited traces, beneath a thousand stains and rents, of its former splendor. Upon one of the thin fingers, sparkled a diamond ring, and a pair of large, gold- cased glasses covered his eyes, rolling beneath their heavy white eyebrows. As Cannie related, in her grave, sweet voice, the events oi the morning, George read in the eyes of the old man a depth of tenderness, which he had never before seen in the face of mortal. When she told how George had saved her life, the wan cheeks Hushed, and holding out, as we have said, his thin, white hand, the strange host inclosed the youth's in a grasp, which resembled the pressure of steel springs. " You have saved two Hves, sir," he said, with a singular aobility of tone; "thanks, thanks 1 And now, my child,'* lie added, turning to Cannie, " go change your dress, or fou will be ill.^ The girl obeyed, and disappeared for a quarter of an hour, luring which time the singular host spoke calmly on a vari- ety of subjects. There was an air of collected strength and jomposure about the speaker, which puzzled George more uid more — for he felt that he was in the presence of a supe- rior man. In the midst of the conversation, Cannie re-ap* fueared, with a primrose m ber hair, and a smile on her Upi as FAIRFAX; OB, — fsr more beantifol, George thouglit, than before. She joined simply in the coQversation — and an hour tied by im- perceptibly, during which the youth found himself more and more absorbed in the process of gazing at Cannie. Then remembering his agreement with Captara Wagner, he arose, and in 8pH.e of 'he most courteous urging, declared he mast depart. I really must return, sir." he £alJ; they inH expect me at Green way Court." " At Greenway Court!" said his host, with an unmi«taka ble start; " are you staying at Greenway Court ?" And the piercing eyes seemed to dive into his own, as though their owner wished to read his very soul. " Yes, I came to the Valley but a day or two since," re- plied the young man, "and stopped at Lord Fairfax's. What surprises you, sir ?" " Nothing, nothing, my young friend — it xs nothing !" And withdrawing, as it were, into himself, the speaker controlled every exhibition of emotion. But George after- wards remembered the quick start — and understood why the utterance of the simple words produced an effect so singu- With the promise that he would come very soon again 60 know if Cannie had recovered from her accident, he at last departed — the grave, sweet face of the girl going with him —her smile seeming to light him on his way. A thou- and speculations chased each other through his bewildered mind; he tried in vain to imagine who his eccentric host could be. But he was completely at fault. He gave up finally in despair; and turned with a sort of delightful re- lief to the image of the grave Uttle maiden. He was still absorbed in his thoughts of her, when the si- lence of the lonely road was suddenly broken. The notes ol a bugle rang out clear from the mountain side — the echoes chased each other frorn cliff to cliff — and then a great tramp- ling and baying was heard near at hand, and a huge stag, pursued by a score of hounds, bounded into the gorge, and foil hleedinig^ to tbp p.^rfTi almost M tl^n vmmor r^inn's fo/^f-. XBOS MASTKB OF GBKENWAY C0X7M. 63 XL THE WILD HUNTSMAN. HE trampling which George had heard all at ouoe became louder ; a hoarse voice hallooed to the dogs ; and in an instant a tall huntsman, mounted on a fiery animal of great size and muscle, thun- dered from a narrow bridle-path into the open space. The stag had fallen, but, half raised upon one knee, was goring the dogs with his huge antlers. They strove to clutch him by the throat, but he foiled them, one and all, aud several of them had akeady received bad wounds when the huntsman reached the spot. The sight seemed to arouse a wild ferocity in him. His cheeks flushed crimson, his eyes glared, and leaping from his horse, he di-ew his couU:fai de chasse, and threw himself into the midst of the dogs. The stag made a last desperate effort. He seemed Ui feel that all was over. The dangerous antlers were lowered to pierce the hunter's breast — but all was in vain. The ner- Tous hand grasping the sharp hunting-knife, darted forward — ^the blood spouted forth — and the stag fell to the earth, his throat cut nearly through and through. The hunter rose, and calmly wiped the blood from his knife on his sleeve. Then he turned to the youth. George had thus an opportunity to scan his appearance. He was a man of middle age, with a tail, gaunt figure, penetrating eyes, and lips whicli seemed to indicate a temperament rather melancholy and cynical, than happy. He wore a brown pe- ruke, and otter-akin cap, with a buck's tail stuck in it, and tall boots with heavy spurs. The remainder of his costume was rich, but disoolored by rain and »mx. The coat had TAIBTAX OB, once been profusely laced, and the orange silk waiftteoat BtiU showed traces of gold embroidery ; but the sidty like its wearer, appeared to have "seen better days." The hunter had carelessly wiped the blade of his fine French couiean dt c?iasse on his cnflf, and now scanned with great calmness his eompanion. " A stag of ten, sir," he said, in a quiet, deep voice ; " you were fortunate to be in at the death." "It is bloody sport," returned the young man, " but won- derfully exciting. What will you do with the carcass of the deer, sir?" " Carry it home with me," returned the huntsman. And whistling to his horse, which came slowly to his side^ he raised the ponderous body, and threw it across the front of the saddle. Then mounting, he said : " You were going in this direction — ^were you not, sir ?" George replied in the afl&rmative ; and followed by tha dogs, of whom many limped painfully, they took their way straight toward the river. " A day for an emperor 1" said the stranger in a deep voice. Then aU at once smiling grimly, he looked at the young man and added : " but that may seem an improper distinction to you — ^you appear to be a Virginian, and the Virginians are all republicans." "I am a loyal subject of his Majesty, George IL," re- turned the boy, " but God made the sunshine for all alike— did he not, sir ?" A grim smile seemed to deepen on the stranger's face. " No doubt, no doubt," was the half indifferent reply, "but the lion has more right to the forest than the jackal — ^if not to the sunshine. You see, sir, that his is the divine right of kings, and his court of tigers, leopards and panthers, have their privileges of nobility." George looked puzzled. The strange huntsman seemed to aim at provoking discussion ; but it was difficult to reply to fni uxBTsn Of GttiESKWAt^ coum 6S **Tou dissent," continued the grim speaker, " out yon don't reply to me. Come, say now, my chance friend — is not all this proper ? Should not the lion rule the forest— the eagle the air? Should not the beautiful tigers and cougara be above foxes — hyenas ?'* " Oh, assuredly 1*' said George, " but kings and nobles are not Hons or eagles always — great lords are very often foxes I have heard. And tell me, is it just, sir, that because the fox bites the heel of the huntsman, as in the fable, and saves the Ufe of the lion — is it just that the lion should de- clare the foxes throughout all time superior to the higher elass of animals "Good, good!" said the stranger, "you strike hard at hereditary privilege. You are a republican — you w(>uld overturn class ? " I would raise up worth I" said George with animation ; "I would have the strong and pure, instead of the weak and corrupt, at the head of affairs. I think when God gives in- tegrity and powerful brain to a man, he should hold the reins of power, rather than his inferiors, though his origin be as obscure as a peasant's. Is not that entirely rational, sir ?" "Hum I hum!" said the stranger with his former smile, " I was not wrong in declaring you a republican — but that's no matter. What care we for kings or nobles in the wilds here? Here's the river." And with these laconic words the huntsman pushed his horse into the water ; and, half fording, half swimming, soon reached the opposite bank. George was there as quickly, and they again set forward — soon issuing from the forest into the waving prairie, whose myriads of brilliant flowers were gUttering in the rich light of the sinking sun. All at once two figures on horseback appeared a quartef of a mile in advance of them ; and these figures plainly de&^ died them, and awaited their approach* rAIBTAX: OB. XIL THE DRAMA OOMMI370SB* EOEGE recognized Falconbridge and Miss ArgaL He rode his white thoroughbred, she her little filly — and standing in the tall grass which reached nearly to the backs of their horses, they presented, in the golden flood of sunlight, a richly picturesque appear- ance. "I am very glad to see yoa,** said Falconbridge, poshing forward and shaking George's hand, with a gay smile : then bowing courteously to the stranger, he added, "give jon good day, sir " The hunter inclined cooUy ; but something in the face of the young man, or his tone of voice, seemed to affect him strimgely. His penetrating gaze riveted itself upon the proud, laughing features of Falconbridge, and a shadow passed over his brow, like that from a floating cloud. "It is strange !" the grim lips murmured ; "what a sin- gular resemblance !" Falconbridge did not observe the expression or the tone. He had turned to George, and began to explain how the young lady and himself, in riding out, had lost their w&y. His manner, when he addressed or looted at her, bad changed greatly. There was something ai dent and impas- sioned in his gaze as it rested on her face ; and the lady was not backward in returning it with looks almost as signifi- cant of her feelings. By some fatality this emotion seemed suddenly to have ripened in both hearts — thenceforth it wai plain that the young lady was tLo fate of Falconbridge — hia hie for veal or wo* TOT lOSTEB OF OBBENWAY OOUBIl 87 " And Miss Argal," said George, wlien Falconbridge Lad told how they had circled at random over the prairie, " waa she frightened ?" " Oh no ! she has behaved like a heroine, in spite of her utter ignorance of the road back to her home." " I can't think where we are," said the young lady, with one of her pretty smiles. But for some vague reason George felt as if this declaration were not true. There was an im- perceptible constraint in her manner as she spoke ; and his truthful instinct told him that there was deception of some sort beneath her apparent candor. He did not reply, but turning to his companion said : "We are not far from Greenway Court, I believe, sir." "Some distance," returned the huntsman coolly, "but the path is well beaten." And with a courteous but cold inclination to the young lady, he set forward, followed by the party. The sun ran in a stream of rich purple light across the hills , and far away beyond the mountains ; the golden cloud ships slowly floated off into the distance and were lost : and as the shades of night descended and the stars came out, thej reached the old mansion of Greenway. The tall huntsman tied his bridle to the bough of a tree lifted the carcass of the deer to the ground, and turned to- ward the porch. As he did so, old John appeared upon the threshold, and bowing low, respectfully approached. " Dismount if you please. Miss Argal," said the hunter, with grave courtesy, " and honor my poor house with youi presence." "Lord Fairfax!" exclaimed George, "I might have known that you were Lord Fairfax — but my mind was busy with other thoughts !" And something like a blush came to the cheeks of t' e boy The Earl smiled, and pressing the young man's hand, said in a friendly tone : ' I am gl^ you did not know me — ^had you recogniied oae of those * foxes ' yon spoke of, you wotdd have eitpressed yourself, perhaps, less honestly." And with courteous gesture, Lord Fairfax marshalled his guests before him into the mansion. The first object which greeted all eyes, was the huge form of Captain Wagner stretched m his favorite leathern chair : he was sound asleep, and his snoring resembled distant thunder. It was an amusing picture. His cocked hat had lallen on the floor, and half covered a pipe which had es- caped from the soldier's hand. A half emptied cup of Ja- maica rum at his elbow proved that the sleeper had been al- so occupied by the task of drinking after dinner. The long Bword in its leathern scabbard had gotten between the ath- letic legs of the Captain, and at every chance movement rat- tled fiercely against the rowels of his spurs, or the iron heels of his large horseman's boot^. " Captain Wagner!" exclaimed the Earl, " so he's here 1" The Borderer stirred in his sleep, and the words " fairest lady!" escaped from his heavy froth-soiled moustache. Whether it arose from the natui^e of his dreams, or from the vicinity of that Hthe and beautiful form, we cannot under- take to say : but it is certain that when Captain Wagner was awakened by the loud voice of Lord Fairfax, his conduct seemed to indicate anything but dreams of ladies. He started up, seized his sword, and overturning the flagon of Jamaica with his elbow, threw himself forward, crying " In- juns ! or the devil tak^ me I" The grim melancholy smile George had already observed, passed over the face of Lord Fairfax, and he sat down, courteously motioning to his guests to be seated also. Then turning to the soldier, who was rubbing his eyes : " Well, Captain Longknife," he said grimly, "sleeping cm duty I see. When did you arrive ?" The Captain bowed with great composure, and picked up bis hat. You, mj lord,^ he said, " are responsible for this n&p I THl ICASTBE OF GBXSimJLT OOXJXXi 00 tttre taken, and if I have slept on my post, you see I was ready at a moment's notice." " True ; you came near splitting me and my frienda here." "That would have been too bad/' said the Captain, "to Bplit f30 noble a seigneur as the baron of Cameron ; such brave companions as friend Falconbridge and George, or so peerless a dame as Miss Argal." With which words Captain Wagner executed a stifif indi- nation toward the lady in question. " Thanks, sir," said Miss Argal in her self-possessed voice, "I hope in my absence you procured everything you wished. Captain," said Lord Fairfax ; " old John " • "Is a trump, or I'm a dandy, my dear sir," interrupted the Borderer. " Did I find all I wanted ? I believe you I I'm an old campaigner, and feeling entirely at home had everybody running, of course." "Eight, right," said Lord Fairfax, smiHng ; "now, with your permission, we'll have supper^ as I'm hungry." " My permission !" cried the Captain, "you are jesting I You could not please me better ; I am dying for something to eat, my dear friend !" Old John, who was standing respectfully in a comer, opened his eyes at this statement, in a way that expressed volumes — ^but he was far too hospitable to allude to the Captain's performances at dinner. At a sign from his mas- ter he busied himself at once to get supper — and soon it was smoking upon the board. Neither Falconbridge nor IVIiss Argal seemed in a hurry to depart ; and when after the meal Lord Fairfax urge-d the young lady to remain all night, to avoid the chill air, she consented with very Httle difficulty. George unconsciously asked himself if young ladies in his neighborhood ever re- mained away thus from home, and treated the feelings of their relatives with such slight ceremony : but as Falcon- bridge, beyond a alight movement of surprise, indicated do 70 FAIBFXX; OB, opmiot?, the jc ath thought he was unreasonable, andhlamisdl himsell for his growing disliko to the young ladj She kept her fine eyes cast down bashfully, the greater part of the time, only raising them occasionally to throw toward Falconbridge one of those glances fuU of subtle fas- dnation^ which made her so dangerous. It thus happened that Ehe did not observe the steady look which Lord Fair- fax bent upon her face. This look, full of admiration, and so striking in one who seemed to care very little for aught around him, took in every detail of the surpassingly beauti« fol woman's appearance: — the gently arched brows, the ripe red lips, the rounded chin, and the snowy throat, against which the dark curls were clearly reHeved, making the white skin more dazzling from the contrast. Miss Argal did not observe that absorbing look; Ler marvellous acuteness would have liscerned in it more than it expressed. He soon fcumed away, and commenced tsdking with Captain Wag- ner, and George; and thus the hours fled, and bed-time came. A maid announced that the young lady's apartment was prepared; and Lord Fairfax, rising, conducted her to the door, which he courteously opened, and ushered her through with a ceremonious inclination. She inclined her head gracefully in turn, and with a quick glance from the comers of her eyes toward Falconbridge, disappeared. "What a very beautiful face this young lady has 1" said the Earl, indifferently, " who is she ?" "The daughter of your neighbor Argal,'* said the Cap- tain; "the new settler up there toward Stephensburg." " The lady is a friend of yours, I believe, sir," said the Earl, turning courteously to Falconbridge. "I do not know tliat I have seen you in our neighborhood before." "That is easily explained, my lord," returned Falcon* bridge, with the same easy courtesy. "I have but just re6U2hed this region. I have come hither to gather infor- mation as to the condition of a large tract of land which I pwn on the South Branch, by jrant some years ainoe, froai THX MASTEB OF GBlISNWiiX OOUS^ 71 j'cmi l^rdsLip's agent there. As to Miss Ajgal, I think 1 may rftyle myself her friend, though oar acquaintance kii^ been short." Lord Fairfax bowed and said : " To-morrow I shall endeavor to afford you the informa- tion you desire, Mr. Falconbridge, and to cut out a task for you, George, my young Republican." "Oh, then you've been debating I" said the Captain, with a yawn. " Yes, nnd George is a leveller — ^but uo matter. I care for nobody's poUtics. As long as he surveys accurately, and you, Caf tain, drive off the Indians, Fm content. Vnd now, gentiem ^n, I must bid you good-night. I am really weary. Jour apartments are all prepared." With these words the Earl inclined his head, and rang a little silver bell, which speedily brought old John to the Apartment. In half an hour, the whole mansion was sileai Were all sleeping ? n xm mm FALGONBBIDaE HAD A STBANGB DBBJJI. ALCONBREDGE had a singular dream He im* agmed that about two hours after midnight, hifi door opened; a heayy step stealthily approached his couch, which was flooded by the pallid raya of the great soaring moon; and a tail form bent down, and looked long and in silence upon his face. What the mysterious figure was like, he could not tell, as the shoulders and head were wrapped in a heavy mantle completely concealing the sex and character of the visitant. All that he plainly perceived, was a pair of burning eyea between the folds of the mantle — dark stars, as it were which glittered as they shone upon him with a lurid lustre. The figure remained thus motionless beside his couch, lost in the deep shadow, and silently scanning the sleeper, who was full in the moonlight, for what seemed to Falcon- bridge, an interminable time. Mastered by a vague influ- ence, which he could not throw off, the young man lay still, asking himself if he were really asleep and dreaming this — or half awake, and looking upon a real form. He could not determine the question in his mind, and remained thus, ly- ing supine and powerless before the vision, in the condition of a sleep-walker, or one in a trance. To the first sensation of surprise and vague discomfort at the presence of the singular visitor, ere long succeeded a deep curiosity to discover what wcmild be the next action ol the figure. The eyes seemed to have burned down upon his face for centuries, but at some time they must be with- drawn. Falconbridge waited, therefore, and was not dis- appointed in his expectation. SHS ItASTEB OF OBESN^AT OOUBX!. 73 The mysterious figure slowly assumed an upright position a deep sigh seemed to issue from its bosom; and with head bent over its shoulder, and drooping form, it slowly returned toward the door through which it had entered. The absence of the strange, glowing eyes seemed to give ihe dreamer courage. No longer paralyzed, as it were, by the magnetic glance, Falconbridge started from his couch and grasping his sword, which lay upon the table, near his bed, bounded to the door. He thought he saw it open and close upon the figure. His sword pierced the soUd wood — the clash echoing through the mansion with a strange, weird soimd. Falconbridge tore open the door, and issued forth upon the landing of the staircase. Nothing was to be seen. The pale raoonlight slept upon the rude banisters, and the aaken floor, but no form was visible. He rubbed his eyes, and retui'ning to the apartment, wrenched his sword from the wood in which the point had b^^en buried. Had he dreamed ? Could it really have been his fancy ? " I swear I saw it I" he muttered, wiping the cold perspi- ra.tion from his brow, and returning to his couch; "it bent over me, and looked into my face 1" With these words he deposited his sword again upon the ta- ble, and lay down. He remained for an hour or more awake, watching for the return of the figure, but nothing disturbed the lonely sUence. At last he fell asleep, murmuring; and slumbered undisturbed, until the sunlight streamed into his chamber through the eastern window, and waked him* 4 74 FAIRFAX ; 0B| XIV- THE N£XT MDBNINGk OTJ must have eaten & heavy supper, sir," said Lord Fairfax coldly, as at breakfast the young man related his strange vision; ** Green way Court is not ancient enough to possess a ghost, and your dreams took a singular direction." "True, my lord," returned Falconbridge, thoughtfully, ** but I could almost swear I was not asleep." "Not asleep V* said the Earl, with grave surprise. " At least I think so. But plainly, I am mistaken. Yet *tis strange ! I seem to have seen really those lurid eyes full of pain and yearning — unhappy eyes !" And Falconbridge leaned back in his chair and sighed. " There, comrade !' said Captain Wagner, with his mouth full, "stop that groaning, or you'll make me melancholy. Luckily my appetite is proof^ against everything — but come, laugh !" Falconbridge smiled. The sonorous voice of the soldier aroused him; and his constitut}<)nal spirits gradually re- turned. "You are right. Captain," he said; "this is idle, and I am earned away by sickly fancies. And yet I could have sworn ! but enough. I fear I've terrified you by my ghost!** he added, turning with a brilliant smile to Miss Argal; "I trust your own dreams were more pleasant. "Very pleasant," was the low reply; and George cati^t in its passage, a quick glance, wliich seemed to say, "I dreamed of you." The breakfast soon afterward terminated; and PfJcoH kxridge requested the Earl to have his horse mid Mian rax MJjfTER oar msammJLi ooubs. Tft Arga^'s brought up. The young lady replied to nis lord- ship's hospitable invitation to remain, that she feared her father was uneasy on her account; and this excuse was oon- elusive. So they departed; Falconbridge making an appointment with the Earl to visit him on the next day; and soon after- ward George, too, mounted his horse and left Greenway. Was it to look at the country, or make surveys ? If so^ the youth evidently preferred the region of the Fort Moun- tain; for in an hour or two he had crossed the river, and iras galloping along the road to the house of Canzde. fAIBVAX; 0B» XV- BOW LOBD FAIBFAX INFOBMED THE OAPTAIN OF FAMILf PBOPHECY. ORD FAIRFA.X and the Captain were thus left alone together. The worthy Borderer lit his pipe, and stretch- ing himself in his favorite leathern chair, pre- pared to listen or to converse. The Earl sat opposite in one of the carved-backed seats; and, resting one arm upon a small table, prepared for busi- ness. Two great deer-hounds lay at his feet, and altogether he presented, in his rich costume of blue velvet, slashed and ornamented wdth embroidery, an extremely picturesque appearance, though the Ustless and melancholy e^pressioQ of his features seemed to indicate that his feehngs were far from cheerful. On the table, beneath the hand of the Earl, lay a rudely- drawn map of the frontier, and beside it were a number ol roughly-folded letters, and an inkstand, from which a long eagle's quill rose, Uke a bulrush bowed by the wind. As to Captain "Wagner, that worthy was clad as usual in his rough travelling dress, and heavy boots. One would have imagined that the soldier never doffed these vestments, BO whoUy a part of him did they seem; and it would have astonished his acquaintances to have seen the huge sword anywhere else than in its natural position, suspended from the great broad belt, and between the athletic legs. Lord Fairfax leaned back in his chair, and passed his hand wearily over his brow. His features wore their ordi- nary expression of gloomy, almost harsh repose, but from THB ICASTEB Of QBEEWAT OOdBl* f1 **Thns, yon see, Captain,** he said, at length, "that I want assistance. The audacious attack upon my house here whicii you have just related, proves that I was not wrong in •ending for you to come and help me. You think that this was only a prowling band, and of no strength — mere pil- lagers from the recesses of the mountains, come down on a momentary foray, as we say in Scotland; you may be right — I do not dispute it — in fact I agree with you. But that the appearance of Indians, in any numbers, east of the North Mountain, is a thing to take heed of, I need not tell jrou. Besides, I have other information which I have laid before you, to which you have listened attentively, and be- yond doubt carefully considered. It comes to me in right of my office. I am Lord Lieutenant, or, as they say here, County Lieutenant of Frederick and the adjoining shires, and this information proves to me, that a great Indian at- tack may be expected at any moment. I am not sure that tins day will pass in peace; that a runner will not, in aB hour from this time, bui st into my presence to announce an attack upon my manois on the South Branch.'* " Not improbable,*' said the Captain, smoothing his mous- tache, thoughtfully. "Thus I have sent for you," continued Lord Fairfax, " and I thank you for your promptness. You have grown hard in these encounters, and I know your military genius perfectly well." "Thanks, my lord.'* "Look,** continued the Earl, pointing to the map; "all these lands are, as you know, a part of my grant from the Crown; this is the South Branch of the Potomac, and you see these crosses. You know better than I do myself that they are houses of settlers. I do not wish these Indian devils to ruin my lands, to scare off settlers, I shall uever return to England at that rate." " Does your lordship think of going back f** FAmPAZ ; OB, Assuredly," said Lord Fairfax, with a grim look; **I do not expect to Kve all my days here in the wildemesB." " I thought this was your chosen home." i " You have thought wrongly, then. As soon as I have collected money enough to re-purchase Denton, I shall \ turn." I "Denton, my lord?" **The paternal estate." *'How wasit sold?" " By my rascally guardians; the entail was cut oflf while I j was a minor, and thus the prophecy of old Lord Thomas, the founder of our house, was fulfilled — ^but I shall disap- point him yet." These words were uttered gloomily, but with a dark fluah \ upon the swarthy features of the Earl. ; "What prophecy doe^ your lordship allude to, prayf* j asked the Captain. j Have you never heard it ?" \ 'Never." \ "Listen, then; the story is not long. The house of Fair- ; fax had for its founder and head. Sir Thomas Fairfax, who \ became, for services to the Crovm, Earl of Fairfax, and Baron ■ of Cameron, somewhere about the year 1600. He was a | sagacious man, and held great sway in Yorkshire, where 1 lies Denton — my Denton it shall be again if there is money ; enough in the province of Virginia to re-purchase it ! You i do not understand. Captain Wagner, the feeUng a man haa toward a place which not only his earliest years have been passed in, but in which his house has lived for centuries. \ I love Denton, its park, its chase, its hills, and flats and \ forests; the old dining-room, the fencing gaUery, the doga ] and horses — yes, the very rastle of the great oaks around j the door ! Well, sir, that estate, as I said, was taken from ; me, the entail was cut off by my guardians, who, I firmly | beHeve, wore bribed to betray my interests. And so the ] prophecy was fulfilled. But I have not told you what tiiat THK MASTER OF Q-REEWAY OCmWR 7$ was. I have said that the founder of the Earld *m was Sir Thomas Fakfax, and he was the gran dfather of the Par- liamentary General, the " Tom Fairfax," of the ciYil war, whom you have doubtless heard of — whose wife was present at the mock trial of King Charles, and created so much con- fusion by crying that her husband was too politic to be there. But I digress. The character of his grandson, the young general, had often caused Sir Thomas anxiety, and so clear-sighted was the old first earl, that he foresaw that this young man would ruin the house of Fairfax. This was put regularly upon record. Charles Fairfax, son of the first Earl, wrote it down. The old gentleman, walking in his great parlor at Denton, about the year 1640 — a centurj ago — was much troubled. He said that something told him that General Tom, and his descendants of the same name, would bring the house of Fairfax to an end. It was fulfilled, General Fairfax ahenated his family estate to marry into a powerful house. A century afterward, I felt the effect ol his act, and Denton escaped from my hands — I am here." The Earl paused and looked coldly through the window. "And this exiled your lordship?" asked the Captain, with sympathy; " this act of your guardians?" "That and other things," replied Lord Fairfax, a dark shadow passing over his brow. " My life has been unfor- tunate and tragic; Fate has sported with me, and woven a wild mesh to entangle me; I have been mastered in the struggle, and struck me down. But I'll not yield ! Let a million prophecies be hurled against me — ^let Fate do her worst I m struggle and contend with her till I die !" The Earl set his teeth close and was silent. " That is right, my lord," said Captain Wagner, approv- ingly: "no brave man knocks under. I do not myself, be- lieve in prophecies, nor any such flummery — and even am disbeliever in witchcraft." " I have had doubts myself, on the suoject of this latt», aDd no longer place as much confidence in astrology either, FAIRFAX; OR, as 1 did formerly," said the Ean, coldly. " A great seer in Italy informed me that I would recover Denfcon, and hence my struggling thus in the teeth of fate. I will struggle so to the end — and I will collect every pistole in this colony, but I will have it back." "Ton have a tolerable grant of land from his Majesty, here, my lord, in place of the said Denton," replied Cap- tain Wagner ; "why not be content ?" "I am not content, because I am in fact a landless man. [ tell you, Captain Wagner, that as long as the oaks of Den- on are not mine — the old walls, the chase — everything — IH not rest." "Well, all that is natural, my lord." " Certainly. And now you wiU understand me perfectly, f own a fourth of Virginia, and I wish to sell it." "Zounds!" said the Captain, "it's a glorious bit of land to be in the market. I'd Uke to buy it." The Earl smiled gloomily. "Tou may at least help me to make it attractive to set- tlers, by grants to whom I aim at realizing what I need to re-purchase Denton." "An empire for a plantation!" said the Captain; "but every man to his humor. Your lordship is the best judge ol your own wishes — now, Td take Virginia — but that's noth- ing. I don't deny that there are drawbacks in the shape of bloody savages, but we'll grind 'em, or ITl eat my own headr m XlffTSB OF GBXEKWAT CXnnMl 81 ttCW OAFTAIK WAGHER DECLARED WAR ON HIS PRIVATH lOOOTTlTS him ; but this even was more pleasant than the gloomy shadow which lay before upon his lips and forehead. ''Captain," he said, with his sardonic expression, ''per- mit me to say that your invention in respect of oaths is truly wonderful." "Many thanks,my lord," returned the Captain, evidently pleased and flattered; "I have a small genius in that line which my friends have complimented. But after all 'tis a bad habit ! a bad habit !" And the worthy looked modestly down, with an expres- sion of mock self depreciation which was a treat to the author or of the papers in the "Spectator." "I agree with you, Captain," replied the Earl, coolly, * 'but 'tis nothing to our present purpose. You have spoken of the Indians in time. When I touch on the subject ol Denton, and the wrong done to me, I am never in my right mind. What do you counsel ? speak plainly and without paraphrases. I require the assistance of a man who knows the habits of these devils, and who can plan. I don't care to acknowledge that I am a mere nothing in council as Tom, the General, was before me. I am irresolute — have a mor- bid inertness clinging to my mind; it is only in the chase ttiat my nerves are strung, my brain clear and vigorous." bATe seen as mwL in your lordslup/ said Oaptea AGAINST LORD FAIEFAX. iHE stalwart Borderer uttered these words with ^ so much energy and expression, that Lord Fair- j fax was diverted from his gloomy thoughts, and . smiled. It was the old grim smile habitual with fiJKFAX; OR, Wagner. ** Ton are irresolute, but would be an ezoeOent officer for a cavalry charge. "Speak plainly," said the Earl, indifferently, "but when you have finished with me, come to the threatened Indiais attack. I know nothing of these matters. Come, yom counsel ! I have laid before you the particulars." " My counsel is easily given, or the d^jvil take me," said the Captain. " 'Sdeath, my lord, I know these Injun ras- cals; they hold pawpawing days the year round, and will be on you like an avalanche some morning; you should prepare. Send runners to the South Branch, with instructions to assemble the men with all the pistols, cohorns, muskets, rifles and carbines to be found: entrust commissions to thera for persons I will designate. Such men as Martin, Miller, Howard, Walker, and Kutledge— direct the levies to be trained in bush-fighting, in loading while running at full speed, and in everything connected with a combat, and the instruments of the said combat, down to the cutting off the necks of the balls of the rifles. Tou have no time in an attack to un- breech and extract the ball — consequently a rifle is done up, or the devil take me. I will repeat to your lordship all the particulars, and you shall write them down, and entrust" them — ^with the commissions you have the right as County Lieutenant to issue — to the runners. As to myself, I shall remain here, partly on private affairs," said the Captain, curhng his moustache, "and partly because my services may be needed here more than yonder. It is not out ol probability, even, that these devils will make their swoop upon Cedar Cheek, and this portion of the manor, from the mountains yonder toward the Northwest. Let 'em com© !" " That is a wild country, is it not ?" "The ruins of an overturned world, grown over with grass and trees, and inhabited by panthers and Injuns," Baid Captain Wagner, succinctly. "Pardy," said the Earl, with his grim look; "I think we may expect them from that quarter.** ^Therefore I shall remain here, mj lord ZoxmdMl I wiB MH laSTKB OF GBEBNWAY COVHT. 88 kave an opportimity, even here, of breaking some skuUs, I warrant you : I hope so at least ; my hand is getting out of practice. Since I have stopped dragging at scalplocka and eating buffalo hump I have felt badly. Give me an attack soon, or by the devil's horns, I will rust to death The stem smile came back to the EarFs face. He liked to hear the sonorous voice, the martial oaths even, of the rude soldier: they were but additional proofs that the in- Btrument which gave forth such sounds must be robust and jtrong. The Earl needed Captain Wagner; he had esti- mated his own character — its strength and weakness — with perfect exactness. Brave, impetuous, even wholly feaiiess when aroused, he was yet morbidly irresolute when un- moved — could not bring himself to any determination — had scarcely power to decide upon the most obvious courses. He would often spend long, weary, miserable hours thus, in his great dining-room, his head resting on his hand, his thoughts wandering back to the past, or forward to the fu- ture; and would only rouse himself at last to dash off to the forest, there to drown his morbid feelings in the excitements of the chase, as other men do in the stimulant of wine. Thus the sight of Captain Wagner was always welcome to the Earl; he was glad to hear the loud voice, the rattle of •purs, the clatter of the sword; they kept him from think- ing. He needed a counsellor, too, as has been seen, and thus the soldier stood high in the Earl's regards. Well remain V he said, in reply to the Captain's last words, " I shall have need for you in other matters, not so warlike." " In what, pray, my lord V " They speak of a trial for witchcraft here soon.'* "Whor •* These gentlemen justices of Frederick, or rather one oi khdm, a Mr. Gideon Hastyluck." "I know him. A crop-eared rascal!" said the Captaia; 'aoimdfil one itcixeB to kick him — this Master Hastyluok« fAIEFAX, 08, or Hajste-thee-Luke, as he was formerly called. Bat who 06 the earth is to be charged with witchciaft?'* " An old settler here in the Fort MountaiD.** "His name?" " PoweU," said the Earl. "Old Powell? what folly! A more peaceful man I neyor knew." "Well, I take no part in the affair; let the gentlemen justices follow their own ideas." " They have none, my lord; they really have not, many o$ them, capacity to follow their noses, even." " I am sorry therefor, inasmuch as I shall have to submit to them, very soon, a proposition in which I am interested.** "What is that?" "I wish the county seat of Frederick County to be Stephen sburg, over here." " Well, my lord," said the Captain, collecting his forces, "WeU, there are gentlemen who desire that Winchestei should be selected." "And ladies too, pardy I" "What, Captain?" " Nothing, my lord ; I only said that there were ladies who wished Winchester to be chosen." "Indeed! why?" "Who have property there." "I regret it; but I cannot yield; my interests all point to Stephensburg." "Let us argue that point, my lord," said the Captain; "1 know that Stephensburg, from its position, as " "Enough, Captain," said the Earl, indifferently; "spare your logic, I have determined to have the county seat at Stephensburg, if my influence can compass it." " Good I then it only remains for me, in due and honor- able form, to declare war on my private account against yofu lordship in this aflfair." "Your sftidFair&x. _ # THE VAfSTEBi OF 01I1ZNWAT OODU Tou Yrisii Winchester to be selected f Yes, indeed, my lord." "For private reasons." " Ah I a ladj is concerned; I have heard of your gallantry very often, Captain. A lady!" " I do not deny it, my lord," said the Captain. **Well, I am sorry to say that I cannot oblige yonrsell and your ^ir friend in this matter. I have determined on Stephensbnrg." "And I, my lord," said Captain Wagner, "have deter- mined on Winchester. Zounds I with all possible respect lor your earlship, Winchester shall be the county seat." The melancholy smile flitted over Fairfax's face. "How will you compass it?" he said, "I have a majority of the justices already in my favor." " How large a majority, pray, my lord?" The Earl smiled again. " Tou seem to forget that you have declared war," he said^ " but this moment. I will afford an enemy no information, whatsoever." " Ah, that is just, or may the devil take me — aright, right! I must do my own nosing-out, I see — and faith, as your lord- ship has so much the start of me, I wiU commence at once." " And I promise not to bear the least grudge, Captain, i^ you succeed, since we are fairly pitted, arms in hand." " Except that my sword is shattered to the hilt, when I enter the contest; yours whole and shai'p." " It is the fortune of war: so much the more glory if yon overcome me. ** Very well, my lord. I promise you to give you a hard fight, and from this moment I sound the trumpet," said the Captain, rising. " Where are yon going?** said the iiai? 86 FAIRFAX; OB, "I dedine to reply," returned the Captain, ctuiningly; "1 follow your excellency." "Not a bad hit, upon my lionor; you are invaluable to me. Captain; you alone of all my friends make me laugh- Go then: but let us empty a cup before your departure." "Willingly, my lord." And so Captain Wagner tarried and emptied a fair flag' gon of Jamaica-— wine he cared not for — to his own success, Then assuring his lordship that on the next day, the in^ str^ctions for the border settlers would be ready for him, the Captain mounted his horse, and took the road to Ordimury- xvn. MONSIEUR JAMBOt's DEATh's HEAL. -J^N the main apartment of Mynheer Van Doring's Ordinary, the fair Mrs. Butterton is dancing a galliard to the music of Monsieur Auguste Hy- pohte Jambot's fiddle. That gentleman is clad in a picturesque coat with barrel cnffs turned back to the elbows, a blue satin waistcoat fit- ting tightly to his thin, slight figure, and pumps adorned, in place of buckles, with immense rosettes of red ribbon. Monsieur Jambot is thus very picturesque — but the widow is resplendent. She is dressed in all the colors of the rainbow; she wears rings, breastpins and bracelets without number; and when she lifts her skirt gracefully in the animated dance, the other hand balanced akimbo on her side, she makes a full display of a pair of substantial ankles cased in real silk stockings, and large, serviceable feet plunged in slippers of immense elegance. The dance comes to an end, and the fair widow fans herself, saying: ''How did I get through, Monsieur?" "Elegant! elegant!" cried Monsieur Jambot, "but next time you shall step not so quick,not mjig^mac/ier ema^/a/ne/*' "Not so w/iaf?^^ asked the fair widow, laughing. "Ah my poor head!" said Monsieur Jambot, ceasing for a moment to tune his violin, in order to press his forehead with a theatrical air : "my poor head — I no understand r Anglais; I mean you step out too — what you call him — vife^ too quick, too spirited: voila le 77iotr "Well, let us try again." "Same, madame?" 18 YAIBFAX; 01^ "Oh^ yes I are you tired of it?" "AJi, non, non — I could not be tired of you when yon dance/' " Tola are very gallant, Monsieur." ''(Test \yrair ** Well, then, play for me again. Do you like that tune ?* •*'Tis beautiful" " I think so too. So you are willing to try again « Ram r And Monsieur Jambot struck up a Kvely air, and Mistresa Butterton tripped gaily down the room to the quick music, her arms akimbo, her wrist bent and resting on her side, her eyes sparkling, her red-heeled shoes merrily clattering on the brightly scoured floor. c^est grand r cried Monsieur Jambot; "yon might dance the contre dance before his Majeste Louis le Grand himself." " I'm glad to hear it," said Mrs. Butterton, fanning her- self, and casting a languishing glance upon her companion — it was to keep herself in practice — "I am glad you think so: for I shall go to a number of froKcs before returning to Bel- haven, and I wish to show the folks up here the difference between the town and the country. I must not dance any more jig tunes, for they dance them very well here: now a minuet is so much better: tJiat is a court dance!" " A royal dance, madame ! But parole d'honr^r, yon dance minuet most elegant." " Oh, you jest I" "Jest? never I" " Shall we try one, then ?" '* Out, madame: I will play and dance also.** When Monsieur Jambot danced the minuet he became, for the time, a different person, so loftily did he hold hia powdered head, with so graceful and stately an amenity did he move on the points of his high-heeled shoes to the slow, gliding music This change now passed over his oonnte< MB MASTER OF OltEENWAY OOUOT. n&nce and manner. He held his violin as a monarch doea his sceptre; he took up, then laid down his cocked hat, aa an emperor would his crown; his whole person became at once stiff and supple, erect and inclined. The lady was not behind-hand. She drew herself up in a stately way, as- sumed a gracious and condescending smile, and raised grace* fully her long skirt, ready to step forward at the first notes of the violin. Monsieur Jambot commenced with a low prelude, full of elegance. The instrument, which had at first shook from its strings a bright shower of laughing and sparkling notes in the gay gavotte, keeping perfect time to the rattle of the lady's sHppers on the floor of the apartment, now changed its tone completely, as if ashamed of such inane gaiety and unseemly mirth. It now gave forth a slow, ceremonious strain, such as was fit and proper for great lords and ladies in princely hall assembled, to bow and courtesy to each other by : even for kings to incline their royal heads to in a graceful, royal way, leading out princesses in gilded, picture walled saloons. As to Monsieur Jambot, he seemed to be perfectly happy, he could play and dance very well at the same time, and on this occasion he excelled himself. He glided, he ambled, he simpered, he bowed, his very eyes seemed to be full of music, and to be ready to dissolve away in fluttering de- light. Those eyes were fixed upon the fair widow, and they expressed, in a way quite unmistakable, the condition of the owner's heart — the state of his feelings. It was very plain, from those languishing, and admiring glances, that Mon- sieur Jambot was a victim to the helle passion, as he called it; and would rather prefer to die for her than otherwise. Not to do injustice to the fair widow's discrimination, we Mrill add that she understood both the look and the state of Monsieur Jambot's feelings perfectly well. She was well asBured that he was one of her most ardent adorers, and Umi be aspired to her haad; bat whether this hand was to 90 fAlBFAX; OB, be rednced into possession by the dancing-raaeter, or b| Captain Wagner, the reader will discover lq due time. And now they approached each other in the gracefu] dance, bowing, smiHng, and rolling their eyes — in which latter exercise we must say Monsieur Jambot very far ex- celled his fair friend — and the music seemed to sigh forth a species of luxurious delight. The lady, with her skirt raised mth one hand, the other hand, oi rather the wrist thereof, resting on her side — executed profuse bows, and so to the triumphant fiddle of Monsieur Jambot, the dance went on its way in triumph. He wound up the minuet with a graceful flourish, impro- vised for the occasion, and full of beauty; and in the ex- citement of the moment, sank upon his knees before the fair lady, grasping her plump hand, which hand he pressed rapturously to his Hps. The lady stood calmly fanning her- self with her disengaged hand, and looking at her admirer with a roguish twinkle in her eyes. The parties were arranged in this elegant and striking tableau, when suddenly the widow turned abruptly, and Monsieur Jambot rose angrily, brushing his knees. These movements were caused by a very simple circumstance, a circumstance which assuredly, in the ordinary course of hu- man events, was not calculated to overwhelm one, or cause any profoimd astonishment. Not to keep the reader longer in ignorance, the lady and her admirer had been startled by tlie arrival of a third personage, and this arrival was an- nounced by the form of words : ** Snout of the dragon I what do I see I Kneeling, or the devil fly away with me 1" And Captain Wagner, the toof-strokes of whose horse had been drowned by the music of the violin, stalked into tJhe room — a dreadful frown upon his brow, his martial spurs jingling as he strode, his heavy sword half drawn, and clat- tering portentously agaii^t his legs, cased in theii* hmrj boota I XVHL HOT CAPTAIN WAGKIS JMDIOTED Hl» FUTOBl FAIOI. j gefife^^ONSIETJE JAMBOT drsw himself up, and j ^ claimed in a theatrical tone : J ^j^Mj ^ Malediction /" " What is that you say, sir eaid Captain Wag- ner, sternly. "I do not understand your barbarous lingo, though Mistress Butterton seems to comprehend it perfectly, i or the devil seize mel" | And Captain Wagner threw upon the fair widow a look i which nearly took away her breath. She scarcely knew | what to reply, and found ail her presence of mind unequal ;j to the task of repelling the valiant Captain, and asserting ^ her own right of action. She finally decided to burst into tears. j "You are a cruel man! that you are, Captain,** she | sobbed, " to speak to me in that way — that you are 1'* The Captain was proof against tears; he knew the sex, as | he often said, and was not to be moved by such trifles. i " I was not addressing you, madam," he said, frowning, "but this gentleman, who used toward me the highly in« j jurious term, malediction. In the whole course of my life, ! madam, I have never been called a malediction by any one j before, and I now inform Mr. Jambo, that whatever may b« : the fashion in his own frog-eating country, in this country \ when one man calls another a malediction, it is a declaration i •f mortal enmity — ^in which Hght I receive it I" i " SacreT groaned Monsieur Jambot, between his denohed i teeth, " oe maudit capUainef I will fight birn — '^nU abolish j him from M &oe of zis earUiP l i I ••Abolish mel*' cried Captain Wagner, in£ this nistory to follow the vaHaat Captain and great negotiator in his campaign, or to repeat in detail the various and ev^r-ready arguments which he used to impress his friends with the importance of selecting the village of Winchester for the county-seat. Perhaps we lose a most favorable opportunity of showing the tremen- dous energy and conspicuous ingenuity of Captain Longknife. by passing thus over a series of scenes in which he was im- pressive and indefatigable — ^but, unfortunately, we are not now writing the history of Winchester. It is enough, then, to say that the Captain returned to the Ordinary, three or four days afterwards, with a countenance in which might easily have been discerned an expression ol much pride and triumph. "Faith, madam!'* he said, bending down and pressing gallantly to his lips the plump hand of Mistress Butterton, who smiled, and murmured, "La, Captain!" and covered her face with her fan, " faith, madam! I begin to think that I ought to have undertaken more in your behalf — ^to have the county-seat moved to Belhaven, or, as these new-fanglea folks begin to call it, Alexandria, or even to Williamsburg, or the village of Richmond, or any other town in which you may have property I Be easy on the subject, my dear mad- am, for this veiy morning I am going to finish everything. I'm going to see Argal, and that rascal Hastyluck, wid I want company. Where's your gallant acquaintance, Fal conbridge, our mutual friend ?" The lady smiled, and with an innocent air, said : " I think he has gone before you. Captain." ^ Gone before r lOT •*ToMr. Argal's." And the lady laughed. "Rather to Mks Argal*s," said the CaptaiL. frowning, and looking thonghtfuL "Yes." "He'sinbver "Is he " Dead in love 1 What a foolish fellow "Hem!" said Mrs. Butterton, gently, and with a danger ous look, " do you think that is very foolish, Captain " It would not be in your case, beautiful and " Oh, Captain I" "May the I — well, that's wrong: but I will maintain, with fire and sword, the good sense of the individual who falls in love with you! — that is," added the Captain, guardedly, " I will cut the throats of all persons, or individuals, who pre- sume to do anything of the sort." With which somewhat inconsistent declaration, Captain Wagner again kissed the hand he held in his huge paw, pushed up his black moustache with his j&nger, as was hab- itual with him, and issuing forth, mounted his horse, and took his way toward Mr. Argal's. lOS FAIBl^AX; OB, XXIL THE OAPTAER BEVELS IN THE OBEATIOI^iS OF HIS FJkXCS. \ ALCONBRIDGE !~Madam Bertlia!" muttered the soldier, gloomily, as he went onward, " infat- | uated! Really, nothing is more astonishing than j this passion, or indeed madness, as one may ] call it, whi(3h invades a man's heart when his locks are still '] black, his moustache untouched by gray. But this is not i an infallible test, since I, myself, am not at all gray. But then, I, myself,'' continued the Captain, philosophically carrying on a logical fencing with himself, as with another | person, " I, myself, possibly am in love. In love I what ro- i mance and folly, and all that ! Still the fair lady yonder is not unworthy of the affection of a soldier, and a man of I intelligence — a good, sensible, fair, wealthy, and very engag- ^ ing widow ! If that don't satisfy an individual in search oi matrimony, nothing can. I'll have her! — may the devil eat i me whole but I'll have her! On ! Injun-hater, on !" \ And the Captain dug his spurs into the huge sides of the ; snorting animal, and went onward like a moving mountain. J He soon reached Mr. Argal's — dismounted — and entered. ^ It was a plain and rudely-constructed house, with few com- forts about it, and scarcely discernible at the distance oi ] fifty yards, so dense was the clump of trees in which it 1 Btood. ' The Captain was met on the threshold by Mr. Argal, who : politely welcomed him, aad led him into the house, where j dinner was being placed upon the table. The Captain j Buuffed up the rich olor of the repast^ plain as it was, and ^ THE MASTER OF GREENWaT OQVN. Ifll \ 1 9, mild expression diffused itseM over his martial cotmte- j nance. Dinner must have been invented by the earliest in- | habitants of the globe, Captain Wagner often said, and ha hailed it as one of the greatest discoveries which had ever j adorned science. To say the truth, the soldier had an j equally exalted opinion of the individual, or individuals, j who discovered breakfast, supper, intermediate mealSj and all descriptions of eating. j After satisfying himself that his material wants would be ! amply supplied, Captain Wagner looked around him to see i where Falconbridge could be — as to Miss Argal, he never ; felt a very great anxiety to see her: for which the honest \ Captain probably had a good reason. They were neither i of them visible, but soon made their appearance, the arm of i the young girl resting upon that of her companion, and hei bright eyes turned to him. Falconbridge grasped the hand \ of the Captain with hearty pleasure, and declared himself \ delighted to see him: to which the Captain replied in the ' same tone. Then, after some conversation, the party sat | down to dinner. The Captain ate with great gusto, and \ emptied more than one fair cup of wine, or — more accurate- \ ly speaking, Jamaica rum. In those days wines were not ! much affected, espec^^Uy upon the border ; the mellow rum of Jamaica was the favorite beverage; and, as we have said, j this was Captain Wagner's chosen drink. < At the termination of the repast, and when all rose and walked out in the fine October evening, the Captain found ■ himself in excellent condition for the attack upon Mr. ; Argal. \ He was speedily left alone with that individual; for Fal- I conbridge and the young lady accidentally wandered off to- j ward the prairie, a glimpse of which appeared through a j glade in the woods, toward the south; and the Captain's ^ eloquence had thus full scope and room to move in, without ■ fear of interruption, \ The difficulty experienced by the very befit 8tenographec8 110 FAIRFAX ] OR, In reporting the ntterances of great orators, is proverbial and undisputed. We find ourselves in this predicament in relation to the harangue of Captain Wagner on this occa- sion. Full of his subject, in a talkative and eloquent mood, and with an important end to attain, the Captain's oration was reaUy remarkable. It was also sprinkled with the newest and most impressive flowers of speech, of that description which the soldier was accustomed to use in decorating his utterances — and the originality and beauty of these newly-coined forms of expression riveted the atten- tion of his smiling and amused auditor. As to his eulogium upon the town of Winchester, it was almost sublime in ita eloquence and enthusiasm. "A magnificent situation!" cried the Captain, pushing up his moustache; "the pearl of towns, the paragon of villages! Like Eome and other cities of Asia, which grew up from small beginnings. Winchester, my dear friend, is destined to rule the world ! But perhaps that is too strong — I wish to confine mj'self strictly within the most reason- able bounds — wiU be moderate, and say that Winchester is destined to be the capital of Virginia ! I expect to see his Excellency, Governor Gooch, take up his residence there, and leave forever that abominable county town, called Williamsburg — expect everything; and nothing is too good for that noble village ! Who knows but his Majesty, George 11., attracted by the wide-spread fame of the place, may some day set out from London on a visit to Winches- ter, and delight the hearts of his faithful subjects of Vir- ginia with a sight of his royal and divine physiognomy ! I think I see myself his herald and king at arms, riding be- fore the royal chariot, through Loudoun Street, on Injun- hater, and crying to the crowd: "Make way, my friends! his Majesty is coming. This, sir, is the future of Winches- ter — and is anything so splendid to be descried in th« future of Stephensbui-g — a mere assemblage of huts, and unworthy of tl^e least attention f Xou are laughing at m6| THE HA8TXE OJf QBBENWAf OOUKL ill my dear friend, and you think I am not impaidal. WeH maybe I'm not — and this is all my jesting. But recollect, my dear Mend, what I say — ^recollect what Wagrer said when it is fulfilled: — m one year from this time, thereTI b« a splendid wagon road from Winchester to the ferry, on the Potomac, and the town will have its jail, and court-house of the finest logs !" Having uttered these words with deep solemnity. Cap- tain Wagner paused a moment, and revolved the remaining points of his subject not yet touched upon. We need not follow the conversation further ; it is enough to say that when Falconbridge and Miss Argal made theii appearance again, Captain Wagner had received from hia companion a promise to vote for Winchester — a matter, he said, of no importance to him, and rather in accordance with his previous convictions of what would be most advisable. " And now, Captain," said IMr. Argal, " is there any more intelligence of Indians ?" "You heard the rumors: but that's little. I thimk, my dear friend, that we shall hear from the South Branch be- fore long. Body o' me! you can't trust those rascals, because you don't see or hear them : — ^you can't, on that ac- count, be sure that they're ntt at your very doors: and this young lady might have been carried away yonder in a mo- ment, in spite of the presence of her gallant." " Bah 1 Captain !" said Falconbridge, as he drew near, smiling, " you can't frighten me." " I wouldn't attempt it, comrade. Such men as wq ar« don't get frightened But Injuns are Injuns !" Well, let them come," said Falconbridge, laughing; " we are equal to them in strength." "And the women ?'* "Ahr And the children?" **Ton are right — ^I forgot them, boy that I am.'* ^la case the Injuns show their noses^ aompanion,* re* 112 FAIRFAX; OB, plied the Captain, "I undertake to saiiy that you will not possibly be able to forget the said women and children.** " How, Captain ?" " They have a way of squalling—an awful noise it is. Of may the fiend seize me!" " I couldn't bear that," said Falconbridge; " I never cotdd end are the thought that a woman or a child was suffering, i would close my ears to it, if I could not strike I" " Well, you may, perhaps, have to close your ears, com^ panion, before the arrival of the blood-thirsty rascals." " What do you mean, Capfcain ?" I mean that Mr. Gideon Hastyluck speaks of having old Powell, up yonder, and his daughter, whose name is Cannie ' — a sweet child — ^burned as witches, at the next assizes/' "Burned?" " Yes." "Aman?" " And his daughter." "You jest. Captain !" " I'm in dead earnest 1'* "For witchcraft?" " Precisely." " Why, it is barbarous ! — worse than the bloodiest mur- der: a man and his daughter burned for witchcraft I" " Then you do not believe in witchcraft, comrade, ehf " I beheve nothing, and disbelieve nothing." "\ery well," said the Captain, "that is just my case — only if that fellow, Hastylu3k, makes me angiy, I will cut off both his ears. Sufficient unto the day is the evil thereof. Let us dismiss the subject, and it's in very good time, as I Bee the sun setting yonder, and a storm brewing. Com- rade," he said, turning to Falconbridge, " will you go ?" There was so much sternness and gloom in Captain Wag- ner's voice, as he uttered these latter words, that Falcon- bridge, for a moment, remained silent, gaziu^^ with astonish tsmui at him. Then hiB eyes turned suddenly towaj d tlu TEB MASTBB OV GR&ENWAY OOmVf U9 lady — ^her hand had pressed his arm, that was all: she was looldiig with a smile at the evening sky. "No, my dear Captain," he said; "I think 111 prolong my visit a little. When I am in agreeable company, I am loth to leave it." "Good, goodl" said Captain Wagner, indifferently, but gazing with a wistful look at the open, careless face of Fal* conbridge, "I can understand that. But I am not a young- Bter, and I really must go." ' He turned his eyes as he spoke toward Miss Argal; and hie rapid glance took in every detail of her figure — her head befit down — her glossy curls half covering her cheeks — her rosy lipc haif parted and moist— her brilliant eyes veiled by the long and dusky lashes, but raised from time to time to- ward her companion: all this Captain Wagner saw, and the frown grew deeper. He said nothing, however, and refusing to accept Mr. Argal's invitation to remain all night, went and mounted his horse, and set forward. Falconbridge remained half an hour longer; and then seeing the storm rapidly rising, also took his departui^3 — but not so sullenly as Captain Wagner. He went on, at fuU gallop, gaily through the darkness which lightning from time to time illuminated : and his coun* tenance clearly indicated of whom he was thinking. The dazzling beauty of the woman whom he had just left, had intoxicated the young man; and he went on with the carelessness of a lover, or a madman, without heeding the lightning or the storm. A brighter flash than he had yet witnessed, lit up the road, and he saw a tall, dark horseman before him, who oould be no other than Captain Wagner — and so, upon a nearer approach, it proved. The Captain had ridden at a measured pace; Falconbridge had galloped furiously; and thiu they had encountered each other. VAIEFAX: OS. xxnL OAPTAIU WAQNBK DISC30URSBS ON THE NaTTJBB OF FAKTBJQS. APTAIN WAGNER quietly returned Falcon- bridge's salute; and touching his horse with the spur, galloped on by his side without speaking. "Well, my dear Captain," said his companion, * you did not expect to see me?" " No, I did not/' said the soldier. "Why?" " Because you were with a woman." "Pshaw!" cried Falconbridge: "you think me a mere lady's man." "No — ^but how did you succeed in getting away?" asked the Captain. " Succeed in getting away?" "Yes, pardy! It seems there is much to attract yon yonder." " Is anything more natural than that I should wish to get to the Ordinary before the storm? See! that flash 1 and the thunder ! I doubt whether, even at the rapid pace we are now going, we shall arrive without a drenching." Captain Wagner made no reply, and the two horses continued to devour the space with their long gallop, which was so regular that but one footfall could be heard. At last the Captain turned, and said, abruptly : " Comrade, you ar® from the Lowlands, down yonder, are you not?" " Yes, fiom Tide- water. Why do you ask?" "Oh, mere curiosity; fine animals you have down there *— your hx>rse for instance." THK MASTBSB Ot GBEB»WAY CJOtJBIE. 116 " Tes, he's of the purest blood — out of Mariana o j Both weil — a racer." " I believe you; lie is eating the road like wildfire — worse than a rabbit at a head of cabbage. But there is one very beautiful animal which I have never yet seen in the Low Country, and though the breed of horses there is superior, I beheve, to the mountain nags, I think we are ahead of yon in" "In what, Captain?" " Panthers," said the Captain, concisely. Panthers ? I have never seen ona" " Are you sure ?" « Certainly." Quite sure?" " Absolutely — ^there are none on Tide-water." That does not matter, comrade — not in the least,** « How so ?" " You may have seen them since your arrival in this fine cx>untry of the Valley, or the devil oat me !" " I have not, however." "Do you know a panther when you see it?*' "No." "How, then, can you say you have encountered nonef Answer that, pardy ! companion !" Falconbridge endeavored to make out the expression of the Captain's face through the darkness. What could this persistence of the soldier in one subject, a subject of no )atere«it to him, signif}^ ? " Well, have it as you will. Captain," he said, smiling, ^ perhaps I may have seen these animals — describe one to ma' ' Ah !" rephed Wagner, " at last you are becoming curi- ous 1 Well, I wiU do as you wish. listen, then, to the description of a panther." "lUsten." The soldier was silent, and seemed to be straggling wiib m FAIBFAX 08y himseU— debfliting in the depths j)f his acute anl vigorodfi brain whether it were advisable or not to follow a certain course. But Falconbridge did not perceive the singular expression of the Captain's face, or indeed, hear his dubious mutterings; the darkness shrouded completely his compan- ion's person — the hoof-strokes of the horse drowned hia growl. The expression of the soldier's countenance would have afforded his companion much food for thought. That expression was both stern and pitying, gloomy and satiricaL The Captain remained thus silent for some time, " But your description of a panther, Captain," repeated Falconbridge. " Well, in the first place," said the soldier, " eyes both soft and fiery — that is to say, as tender-looking as the leal of a flower in bloom, and at the same time as brilliant as a flame of fire." "Indeed!" "Yes! extraordinary eyes, wondrous eyes; both human and inhuman, attractive and repulsive, but far more fascin- ating than menacing, or the devil take me ! It is only at certain times that these eyes menace you, and then they blaze 1" " Ah !" said Falconbridge, " then you have seen both ex- pressions ?" "Yes, often! a wondrous pair of optics, that draw jou toward them, however firm you may be, as the sun drawSt [ am told, the fixed stars, pardy !" Falconbridge laughed at this illustration. " Well," he said, " continue." " Next the voice is not kss wonderful/* " The voice ?" " Certainly." "Of a panther? Has a panther a voice, Captain — a foioe?" •* Nothing less 1 Have you never read of the strange cry II THK HASTSB OF GBBEWAY OOVBfS. Ill %ng of a child, which hunters have heard iii the deep forests i in their expeditions T' ■ "Ah, yes I I now recollect " » "Well, that is one of the tones of the panther's voice. 'i You understand," continued the soldier with a cold sneer — i " a ferocious, blood-thirsty animal, worse than a tiger, or a | rattlesnake, cries like a Uttle fatling baby for its amuse- j mentr J Strange, indeed i "But this voice, which can sigh, and wail, and murmui > like a baby's, can also send terror to the strongest heart 1" < "Yes." ] " To proceed, then, with my description of this fine animaL" I "Captain — ^your voice 1 the tones of it I how singularly j you speak ! but pardon me." I " Oh, my voice, it is true, can't compare with a panther's | but, nevertheless, I have the advantage in one particular. I ! have never yet seen the panther who could ease his feelings j with a good round * devil take me!* But let me finish. I Next to the eyes and the voice come the velvet covering, the \ graceful movement, the beautiful, sharp teeth, and the j sharper claws; but here again is an astonishing thiug; with i these teeth the fine panther, male or female, actually | smiles " | " Smiles ? Captain, you mean more than you say ! There \ is a covert meaning in this description my mind struggles i to make out 1'' j " Covert ? How is that — ^it is as accurate a description as possible; no fiction, no imagination, or may the devil fly • away with me !" : " Proceed I" murmured Falconbridge. \ "1 was saying that as the panther, with its fine voioe, \ could not only make you shudder, but also fill you with j pity as for a poor little crying child, so with its fine teeth it j cannot only tear you to pieces, but just as easily persuade I you that its nature is all tenderness and love — ^by nmiling j U8 FAIRFAX; OB, ander stand — a soft, gentle^ fascinating smiSet I have seen it, or tlio devil take me I" "Captain, Captain!" murmured Falconbridge, passing his hand over his forehead." "Then the claws," continued the soldier, paying no at- tention to this interruption, " they are gifted with the sin- gular power of drawing themselves in, and burying themr selves beneath the velvety hair, you understand" "Yes 1" "Then when they are so drawn back, you touch nothing but a soft, velvet cushion, which natural historians have most ungallantly called a paw — say ungallantly, because all this time I have been speaking of the female panther, or perhaps I may say pantheress. You have a beautiful, soft cushion before you, a pretty thiQg to toy and play with — nothing more — ^no claws any where visible; you compre- hend?" "Perfectly!" " But if you happen to excite the slumbering ferocity ol the fine lady panther, why this beautiful, soft palm will turn into a bundle of iron springs, the sharp claws will dart forth like magic; and the bright teeth which you admired so much will come to the assistance of the claws; and there! yoi find the consequences of intimacy with a pantheress 1 When your friend, uneasy at your absence, comes to search for you, he finds a mangled body, half-devoured, and emptied of every drop of blood; panthers like blood!" "Captain — Captain Wagner!' murmured Falconbridgs, " speak to me as a friend — speak to me in plain words — ^you ovean " " That I do not like panthers, male or female," said Cap- tam Wagner, sullenly ; " they are too tender and cruel, too beautiful and fatal with their undulating bodies, their grace- ful limbs, their soft, velvety covering, their smiles, their sighs, their fascioatiag glances !" '^Cttptainl CaptaiuP TBK MASTKB OF GBEJEKWAT OOlJBr. 119 ^Thej smile too sweetly and bite too ferociously I Tliey oaress too softly the victim before tearing him to pieces, and lapping with a smile his heart's blood! Would you have me like the animal when I know it so well I" Falconbridge was silent for a moment, evidently overcome by this terrible allegory. At last he said, with much agita* tion : "Captain I friend ! why have you spoken with such cruel mmity of Miss Axgal ?" "I have spoken of no one," said the Captain gloomily ; * I have not mentioned Miss Argal's name ! I have spoken of an animal which I should fear mortally, were not my muscles of force sufficient to cateh that animal in my ai*ms, were she to spring upon me, and there crush her Falconbridge, plunged in distarbed thought, made no re- ply. They galloped on for a quarter of a mile in silence, and then the moon came out between the lurid clouds. The storm had passed away toward the south. Captain Wagner, chancing to look at his companion, saw that he was very pale, and that his forehead was covered with a cold sweat. The words of the soldier seemed to have paralyzed him, for he remained perfectly sUent — with eyed full of wonder, fixed far away upon the distance. Not a word more was uttered by either of the companions until they reached the Ordinary, and here they separated, and retired to their beds. With Falconbridge the night was a vigil of wonder and in- ceredulitj. 120 VAIKFAX; OB, XXIV. fiETLBOnONS OF CAPTAIN L0N3KNIFB. OME days after the scenes which we have tried to make pass before the eyes of the reader, Cap* tain Wagner, who had been unintermptedly en- gaged in conferences with the Earl, bethought him of paying some attention to his private affairs. According- ly, one morning before the sun had risen he donned his warlike accoutrements, mounted " Injunhater," and set out for the Ordinary. The sun soon appeared above the brow of the mountain, and scattered the river mist before him. The landscape waked up, the birds began to sing, and not to be behind them, the Captain shouted lustily an old border ballad, with an ardor whwh was superior to its musical execution. " The fact is," he said in a confidential tone, after finishing the chorus, " the fact is, I was not intended to delight the world by the sweet tones of my voice. Astonishing, but dooms true ! It's not given to everybody to excel in all things, and this is one of my failings. On, Injunhater 1" And the worthy touched his great black animal with the ipur, and cantered along gaUy, presenting, as he moved through the burnishing sunlight, an exceedingly striking and martial appearance. A. fine morning, by the snout of the dragon I** continued the Captain, looking round with satisfaction on the expanse of torest and prairie. "I should like to feel for once like Fairfax yonder, that the world belonged to me — that I was master. But wherefore ? Am I not better oS by far THE KAffTER OF GBEENWAT OOUBff* 121 than tliis good baron of Cameron ? First, I am a ooxamos individual — and these lords must have such a weary time Then I laugh, and the baron only sighs I He eats little or nothing, and at this moment I coald devour a raw buffalo, or I'm a dandy 1 To end the whole matter I'm going to sea my wife — I'm going to breakfast with my intended ! A nobk woman, a real fairy, though she's so fat. But who cares ? I rather like fat people ! They laugh where lean ones groan ; ni have this one ! If I don't I'll eat my head !" And the Captain seemed inspired by the reflection and pushed on more rapidly. Then as he gazed in the direo- tion of the Ordinary his brow clodded — ^he was thinking of Falconbridga "A noblG fellow!" he muttered, — heart of oak — an honest boyf And he's going to his doom as sure as my name's Wagner. Well, I've done aU I can, and more than 1 have liked — things must go on their way. He has had full warning, and though my breast aches at the thought that he's going to bleed, I am done with it. Woman, woman! why can't we male things stay away from them ? We die for them — ^which is better than living for 'em sometimes ! We laugh at 'em, sneer at 'em, curl our moustaches with a high-handed air, and then we go kneel down, and make fools of ourselves. Why did they enter the world ever ? What is it that draws us so toward 'em ?" The Captain knit his brows as he saw the tavern before him, and after some moments of silence, muttered grimly : " Woman I woman ! wherever you tiim in this miserable mrld, you're sure to find a woman I — a^d an individual of the masculine se:^ not far off !'* 122 FAIRFAX; OB, XXV. now TBM TOWM OF STEPHENSBUBG, OTHERWISE NXWT0W1I| WAS SOLD FOB A FLAGON OF PITNOH. JHE Captain proceeded toward the Ordinary without further reflections, or at least utterance, and was soon entering the door of the main apartment. A disagreeable picture awaited him. The handsome wid- ow was leaning familiarly upon Monsieur Jambot's shoulder, and conversing confidentially with that gentleman. Whether she had heard the sonorous neigh of Injunhater, and arrang- ed for his rider's benefit this pleasing little tableau— or whether the idea of making her admirer jealous had never entered the mind of the lady, we cannot say. But she cer- tainly exhibited great surprise and confusion. Monsieur Jambot only scowled. On this trying occasion Captain Wagner acted with that con- Bnmmate knowledge of the female character which his friends declared made him so dangerous. He squeezed Monsieur J'imbot*s hly white hand with the warmest and most frater- n il regard — ^greeted IVIrs. Butterton politely but with easy 1 indifference — and then turning his back in a careless way, pioceeded to converse with Mynheer Van Poring, taking no fmlher notice either of the Frenchman or the lady« The result of this stratagem was soon apparent. Mrs. Butterton pouted, tossed her fair head, and abandoned the vicinity of Monsieur Jambot, whose teeth began to grind against each other. Captain Wagner did not move. He was perfectly ab- aofbadim hu conversation with the fat landlord THE MAflTTEB OF GBKENWA^ COUBT. 128 The lady lightly touched his shoulder: — ^he turned indif- ferently. " Why do you treat me so unfriendly, Captain said the lady; " all because I was looking at that music ** Unfriendly, madam ejaculated the Captain, I am not unfriendly — ^but I know too well what is expected of a sol- dier in the presence of the fair sex. As you were convers- ing with Monsieur Jambot, I was too polite to intemipt you." And the Captain raised his head with martial dignity and hauteur, with which was mingled a proud misery. IVIrs. Butterton put her handkerchief to her eyes and sobbed. The Captain set his teeth together, and summoned all his resolution. Another sob issued from the handkerchief. Monsieur Jambot rose to his feet with ferocnous rapidit}^ In a mo- ment his Uttle dress-sword was drawn, and he had con- fronted the Captain, whom he charged, in a voice hoarse with rage, with making Madame '* grieve." Captain Wagner drew his sabre, courteously saluted, and took his position with the coolness of an old swordsman. It was then that Mrs. Butterton threw herself between them with sobs and tears, beseeching them to be fi'iends — for her sake, for the sake of goodness gracious — and on other grounds. "For the sake of a lady," returned Captain AVagner, coldly, "I am prepared to do anything. But blood will come of this, or the devil take it ! Blood, sir !*' And the Captam struck ferociously, the hilt of his sword, which weapon he slowly returned to its scabbard. Mon- sieur Jambot declared his entire wilKngnec^s to light aU tht Capitauies in the v/orLL singl}-, or together — and tlien with hia hands superbly placed upon his hips, and his hat cocked fierc^^ij, sauntered cariilessly from fehe apartment. Then commenced a terrible scene between the Captain aud Mrs. Butterton. We forbear to relate the partioal^k» FAIRFAX ; OR, The lady was the pleader — the soldier was tho so unieelingly — so " There the voice died away. The aoconts went to the young man's heart. The Bobs IM PAIKFAI; Om, Bmote down aJl his coldness. The sight of the loTely form bent down, and shaken with agitation, dissipated all hii resolution, and drove away every suspicion, ag the winds ol March drive away the clouds from the clear blue sky* All the profound loyalty and truth of his nature wai aroused — all his abhorrence of injustice and unkindnesB. He took the young lady's hand in his own — ^pressed it ardently, and begged her forgiveness for his cruel and un- founded suspicion. "Pardon me," he said, in his sincere, noble voice, casting upon his companion, as he spoke, a glance of unspeakable love, pardon your poor friend for the harsh and insulting words he has uttered. I know not why I spoke so — I know not how these thoughts ever entered my unfortunate brain. Enough ; in pity let us speak of this no more. So we are friends again — are we not ?" And he bent forward to look into her face. That face was raised, and the black eyes were riveted upon his own with a sorrowful forgiveness, a tender melancholy which were inexpressibly beautiful. They swam in tears — ^but through the tears broke a sad smile which made the hear! of the young man bound in his bosom with wild delight. Carried away by a rush of emotion, he pressed the hand which he held to his lips, and said, passionately : "Do not weep — ^your tears make ne wretched! Never shall I forgive myself for the cruel and unmanly conduct which I have to-day been gTiilty of, I came here with my heart on fire, my brain in a tumult — I have been unjust, insulting, mad, almost — I could not help it. I spoke thus because my mind was whirling, my nerves trembling —be- cause — because I love you ! — ^yes, presumptuous as you may think the words in a mere stranger — love you — with hon- est, faithful love!" Enough — we forbear from pursuing further the details oi the scene between the young lady and Palcoubridge. We m MABTKK OF GBEILXWAY OOWL 137 hare little skill in reporting such dialogues, and must iraw the veil over the rest. He remained until late in the evening, and then returned at full gallop toward the Ordinary, his face the very imper- sonation of joy. At times he gazed wistfully upon his left hand, from which a ring was missing — a plain gold ring which had belonged to his mother. He had placed it upon the finger of the young girl, for she had pKghted to him her troth. Here we would gladly leave the young cavaHer — ^with his face smiling, his cheeks glowing — his pulse beating joyfully as he galloped on through the prairie and forest. But the fatal current of our narrative keeps us beside him. Those smiles are brief ones — ^the bloom of the happy cheek evane» cent as the frail spring blossom — ^the blow awaits him. He dismounts at the door of the Ordinary and entera The fat landlord presents him with a letter which he opetis, smilingly. Ten minutes afterward he is seated in his cr.amber, hiii brow leaning upon his crossed arms, resting upon a table —his cheeks as pale as a ghost's — his forehead moist with icy perspiration. The shudders whioh pass' through hia frame rattle the paper still clenched in his nervous grasp- but no groan issues from his lips. 188 TAXBTAX: OB, XXYHL THE LETTER. HIS is the letter accompanying another paper which is stained with blood. **Mb. FALCONBRn)GE I — Afltcr mnch doubt I address you, to warn you, as a friend, against allowing your affections to be ensnared by Miss B. Argal. I have no right, sir, to pry into your matters, and maybe I will get no thanks, but your courtesy to me maKes it imposfid- ble for me to see you duped. Captain Wagner will not speak out — ha Bays that he has already said more than he had a right to — and I will, therefore, do so myself. The paper which I put in this letter will tell you all. The poor young man was a distant reJiitive of mine, and died at my house. He wrote the paper just before Ids death. I will add no more, except that I have no private grudge against Miss Argal, and so remain, Your real friend, Sahah Buttebton." The paper was written in a firm hand, obscured in several places by stains of blood, and ran as follows : •*Staxpoi6i» Va., ifoy, lUl. *' I am about to commit suicide. Before putting an *^nd to my misera- ble life, I will relate the circumstances which impel me tu the act. My mind is perfectly sane, my memory good — will speak calmly. This ia my history : ** 1 was left an orphan at twenty, with no brothers or sisters arunnd me- my oniy brother, who was older than myself, having perished on a sea-voyage. I was ricli — the entire property of my paionts having re- verted to myself. I enjoyed country life ou my property, and was fond of the society of young ladies, but never loved any one until I met with Bert na Argal . Her father rented a small faim near my own considera- ble estate, and I met with her frequently, and conceived a passion for aer. She was, and is the most beautiful woman that my eyes ever be held. Unfortonatdf she is dsstltate ol all those aoble q^iuJities wUok ^ MASTSB 07 GBEEKWAY GOTTBaB. 189 diofild ftocompany beauty. She is false, and as cold as ice--heartl6ML But I will not say more — let the event show. •* I loved her passionately, and very soon commenced paying her my ad^ i dresses. She received them with manifest favor. It was not longbefon I confessed my affection, and she told me with tears and blushes, that she loved me as ardently as I said I loved her. I will never forget her words or her locks ; they are engraven on my memory. Well, to be brief, we j vere contracted in marriage ; it was fixed for a day not more than three months off, when my elder brother, who had been given up as lost at Bea, five years before, suddenly made his appearance. He had been taken prisoner by a Spanish vessel, carried to Cadiz, and thrown into « ' dungeon there, as a suspected character ; his identity being mistakeit, j He had finally been liberated however, and so came back. I need not ■ tell anybody who knows me, tliat I did not regret this, or grudge my brother the estate, which as eldest son he deprived me of; reducing me from an independent gentleman of large possessions, to a dependent ' on his bounty. I loved him, and he loved me. I looked up to him; he ; was my superior in mind as in strength and stature ; and I was content to occupy my rightful position of younger brother and inferior. \ "Not long after his return, Harley saw Bertha Argal, and in spite of < his knowledge of my engagement, loved her. In this there was no dis- ! loyalty — no intention to become my rival. He would have scorned the j imputation, but he loved her. He could not help it. The dazzling j beauty of the girl, her fascinating, bewildering witchery, were too much I for his resolution. I saw that he loved her, but at fiist gave myself no j sort of uneasiness about it. I knew that Harley was the soul of honor ; j would as soon cut off his right hond as commit a base action ; and as to i Bertha Argal, I was quite at rest. At that time I laughed at the idea oi j treachery in a creature so pure and beautiful. Well, the sequel will j show. Six months after my brother's arrival, the young lady began to | grow cold toward me, and waim toward my brother. I told her of it ; Bhe laughed in my face. She grew fonder and fonder of my brother. I became angry. She sneered at my anger. K I was displeased, she said, at my brother's attentions, why not bring it to the decision of arms t j we both wore swords ! These satirical words impressed me horribly ; ■] the young lady was coming out in her real colors. I said nothing, and | terminated my visit ; but I went again the next day, for I had no will to j resist ; I was mad about her. Thus things continued until a month j ago. Then I found that she had been poisoning my brotlier's mind j against me. He became cold to me, and ere long my presence in the bouse, our lather's house, became an evident constraint on him. One moniing, however, he rettimed from Mr. Argal's, whither he had beea on bofliiiess mih a strange glow in kis che^ and greeted me with long I 140 FAIRFAX; OR, dimiMd affeotioiL He seemed to look at me aompassionately. 8om«* tiling told me that this foreboded evil, and I galloped over to see Bertluk I had guessed correctly, She embraced that occasion, she said, to ia« form me that I might give up all thoughts of marrying her ; she had no reason to give ; it was her decision ! She looked like a queen as she spoke, and I remained for a moment looking at her, pale and silent. Then I said, * Was this what made Harley so kind to me, so compassioa* ate? Did you inform him of your intention?' *Well, sir,* was her re- ply, * suppose I did ? I beg you will in future con fine yourself to yoni own affairs, and not subject me to the inquisition.* She was furious, but as beautiful as an aroused leopardess. I was white with rage, but I loved her passionately stilL I glared at her for an instant, and then replied, * This will end badly. Miss Argal— no young lady can trifle with a gentleman with impunity.' Her lip curled, and she said, coolly, * Oh, you mean you are going to fight Harley ? Well, why don't you try it, sir ? Are you afraid that he is a better swordsman, and will finish you ? I have no doubt this is you] objection, and I don't believe you would dare to face him !' I solemnly declare thai these were her exact words. I leave the readers of this paper to decide if in many cases they would not have produced that awlul tragedy, a mortal contest between brothers. I said nothing, however ; I looked at her with pale and trembling lipg only, and went away. Three days afterwards, Harlej was called to Mr. Argal's again, and on his return looked serious and troubled. 'Ml8s Argal is a singular -person,' he said to me after dinner, with great gloom : * can she wish to place you and me, Charles opposite each other with swords in our hands ? I should so imagine from her conversation *o-day ; a strange person !' I did not reply, except oy some common- placa I loved the young woman still with too passionate a love. I could not speak against her. For more thai two weeks thereafter, I was her slave, her dog. I crawled back when sue lashed me away, and tried to kiss the hand which struck ma I say this, because aU the truth shaU be known. I have no resolution — I never had any ; I am the powerless Tictim of this infatuation ; and if this moment Bertha Argid were to enter the room, and smile on me — oven after all — I would obey her in anything she commanded "But my narrative must come to an end. Four days ago 1 went ta see her for the last time. She met me with scorn and satiricd smiles, which soon became sneers. So I had determined not to be whipped \way. had I?' she asked : •! had come sneaking back to moan out that she no longer loved me ; that she lOved my brother, which she now begged leave to inform me was a fact, and that I was wretched.' * Yes, I said, *^ jroa say is trae.* 'Thoa jou are a fool for your paizui, sii^ nOE ICAOTEB QV OKEENWAl OOTJBT. 141 fihe micL, ^»nd your presence makes me sick. You, tk brother of Hark^y Ausfciii I you, with your feeble snivelling complaints, and begging, thii brother of that strong, resolute man ! Yes, sir ! I love him, and he shaD love me ; and if you don't like that, you may put an end to yourself ; it win be a matter of very small interest to me !* I looked at her as she spoke, and shuddered. She was super-humanly beautiful ; I would hare given all the countless worlds of the sky, had I possessed them, to have clasped her for a single moment in my arms. She saw her influence over me, and her lip curled. * You haven't resolution, however, for the act,* she said; * if I were a man, and fortune went against me, I'd do as the ancients did, get rid of life. And now, sir, you will please leave me, I am tired of you. Ah ! here comes Harley !' And turning her back on me, she hastened to the window, and smiled at the visitor. "I set my teeth close, put on my hat, and went out. Harley and I passed each other with some constraint on his part ; I was quite calm, for I had made up my mind. I returned to the hall and wrote on a piece of paper which I knew would meet my brother's eye, the words : * Think well, before you marry Bertha Argal, brother. She has broken my heart — attempted to drive me to a bloody combat with you, knowing who would be victor, and now advises me to end my despair by my own hand. T obey, for life has no longer any charm for me. Farewell.* I signed this, and have come hither to Mrs. Butterton's to write and leave 12ns paper. **In five minutes I shall be dead. Chakles Austin." rhese were the words wliich Falconbridge read — ^then hii glance fell upon these others in addition, in Mrs. Bptterton'a band-writing : The poor young man was found dead when we ran at the explosion of his pistol This paper was lying on the table. Mr. Harley Austin returned it to me, not wishing to keep it ; he has since left the country." Ealconbridge remained motionless throughout the entire night. As the sun streamed in, he raised his face, which was covered with a deadly pallor, and groaned. fiiBfAz; (m. XXEL THE THBEADS OP THB WOOF» OTJRS, days and weeks have fled away since thii scenes and events whicli we have endeavored to place before the reader's eyes. The year wanes fast. The briUiant sunlight of October has yielded to the hazy influences of November. The sky is no longer blue: the trees are dismantled of their splendid trappings. Under the chUl heaven of a leaden color, the broad face of nature resembles some great hall, from which the gorgeous hangings have been torn, the trophies of ban- ners removed — in which the lights are slowly going out, as after a great revel, when the guests have all departed. The plover cries and the partridge whistles on the wind- swept hiUs — the wild geese wing their way toward the south — the crane stalks with a sombre and weird air among the shallows of the water-courses, dreaming, you would say, of other lands — and from the northwest wander cutting blasts, j)reluding the approach of winter. But the human hearts beneath the chilly sky beat as be- fore. The personages of our drama follow still, the bent ol tb^ir diver sse pasr ons, humors, and desires. The not blood in their veins pul^^cttes, and hastens to and fro, as strongly. Lord Fairfax pnd Captain Wagner hold interminable dis- cussions on the state of the border, and the best means ol defence, now that the Indian inroad may be soon expected The worthy solc^'^r is content to pass his time thus — alter- nately debatin^j^ with his lordship, and pursuing hia own special carapai^ against the enemy at Van Boring's Ordi- nary: he sleeps, and eats, and drinks, and pnilosophizes, no% without many camp expletives, uttered in a jovial ftnd son- THE MASTEB Df ORBEimAr OOtTBI. 148 orous voice, the sound of which seems encouraging to the Earl, for he greets these outbreaks on the part of the Cap- tain, with his uniform grim smile. Meanwhile George is occupied by his own affairs also. He surveys the surrounding lands assiduously for the Earl ; Bleeps often in the woods, his head resting on his knapsack; and it happens that the direction of his toils is often toward the south. There the great Fort Mountain raises its double waU, blue against the dun heaven, and within the embraces of the shaggy arms — perched like an eagle's nest in the declivity of the mountain — he sees the cottage in which Cannie lives. He loves the Httle maiden now with the fondest devotion. She has become aU the world to him, and dwells in his thoughts wherever his footsteps turn — in the prairie, and the forest, by night and by day; it is always Cannie of whom the ycuth is dreaming; around her he weaves that tissue of romance and fancy which the bounding heart of youth adorns with such resplendent gems. George goes often to the mountain dwelling, and there all the outer world disap- pears. He is alone in the great universe with one whose grave, sweet smile Hghts up his hfe — whose frank, open brow is the mirror of truth and goodness — ^in whose eyes he finds the charm which only exists for the youthful lover And Cannie now no longer looks upon him as a stranger. He has become day by day, more an influence upon her hii — ^her innocent heart beats fast when his tall and erect fig- m*o enters the doorway — when his sunny smile, Hghting uj the firm lips, and frank, true face, beams on her. She does not disguise her affection now, tor she knows it is returned — ^but her fondness for her youthful companion never be- trays itself in a maimer repugnant to the most deHcate maiden modesty. It is Ca»nie's natui'e to be honest tine true — but she is ripemng into a ''young lady" now; and sc George can only guess from the serious smile, and Idndljf i^€8» her secret VAIBFAX OB, Their lires gKde on thus, and no incident breaks the 9pel] which is woven day by day more closely around the young hearts of the maiden and the youth. The old grandfather alone with his books, bis chemical machines, or with whatever occupies his attention; they are by themselves in the world of reverie and fancy. It is true, that from time to time, as they wander like happy children along the mountain side, or to the lofty brow of the sleeping giant, that a shadowy figure follows and marks the way they take — but this figure is unseen by them. It is the young Indian whom the reader has once looked upon, on that beautiful day of October — hidden among the leafy branches of the great oak, and de- scending to follow, then, as now, the footsteps of the pair He still preserves his air of grave and lofty dignity — ^his eyefl have the same expression of mild truth and honesty — his lips move as before, and utter the sad murmur which seema to indicate a possessing thought. His eyes never wander from the form of Cannie when she is in the circle of his vis- ion — ^he seldom betrays any other emotion than a jealous, watchful guardianship over her ; if his features contract sUghtly, and his broad bosom heaves, when she bestows upon her companion some Httle mark of her affection, this exhibition of feeling is soon suppressed ; the old gravdty re- turns ; and the young chief glides into the deep woods, and disappears, as Hghtly and silently as a shadow. And Falconbridge — ^what of him? Has the darkness which enveloped aU his hfe upon that awful evening, when he read the letter of the suicide, been dissipated ? Wholly. A few days afterwards he encountered Captain Wagner at the Ordinary ; the soldier, who had been informed by Mrs. Butterton of the step which she had taken, almost feared to meet the young man, or witness his agony. He expected to find Falconbridge bowed to the earth with anguish — ^to hear only groans and stifled sighs — to st>e, in the pale cheek, th« laok^lostre eye^ the droopinn^ form, thoae evideMos of raf" THE MASTEB OF GBEENWAT OGTTKr. 145 Csrmg "Vfliicli betray the victim of despair. Instead of snch a figure, he saw Falconbridge happy, smiling, buoyant. Hifl head rose proudly erect; his eyes shone with a joyous light; his hps were wreathed with smiles; he was the picture of one across whose brow a cloud has never passed. The worthy Captain started, and looked with unfeigned astonish- ment upon his companion. The quick eye of Falconbridge discerned at once the meaning of this expression. He laughed gaily, and then said, with earnest simplicity: "I know why you start so, comrade — why you are as- tounded at seeing me thus happy-looking. That well-mean- ing lady, your friend, has doubtless told you of her warning to me. It was honest and kind in her — ^but it made me very miserable." "And then," said Captain Wagner gloomily, "what hap- pened afterwards?*'* "What happened? Why what could happen, comrade? I went to the person charged with this awful dupHcity and heartlessness. I asked her to say what was the rt^al truth — and I heard it. She raged at the accusation ; vainly at- tempted to extort from me the author — and then giving way to her feelings, burst into tears, and told me all , explained everything." "Oh! she explained everything, did she?" said Captain Wagner, with gloomy irony; " no doubt she made all quite dear." " Oh, perfectly ! How could your friend have seriously thought that paper written by the poor unfortunate youth 'who killed himself, an actual narrative of facts ?" "It was all a romance then?" said the Captain, with the same sardonic contortion of his lip, *'it was only a little im- aginary story which he amused himself in writing, to wile away the time before he blew his brains out!" "Captain, Captain!" said Falconbridge earnestly, "your voice has a terrible sneer in it ; your curling lip betrays scorn und incredulity 1" FAIRFAX; OB, *' Well, it betrays what I feel/' retnmod the soldier, look- ing at the young man with wistful and gloomy eyes ; " it talks plainly, does this curling lip you speak of, or I'm a dandy! But 111 uncurl it; rU sneer no more; I'll no4 wound you Falconbridge — and have only to say that 'twas fcroly unfortunate that this mad youth made up such a horri- ble story." " Mad /" said Falconbridge, with a quick glance at bin companion, " then you heard of his madness !" " No," said Captain Wagner, " but I have no doubt that is the fair young lady's explanation." " Yes, assuredly ! who could have doubted it ? The truth is that the unhappy lover's tale was only the sick fancy of a diseased mind. He did pay his addresses to Lliss Argal — he did love her passionately — ^but she told him frankly a hun- dred times that she could not respond to his affection. She tried to do this as kindly and tenderly as possible, but her reply only enraged him. There was a tendency to madness in his family, and this made her peculiarly anxious to soothe him. He would not be soothed however; in their last in- terview he yielded to a crazy fit of wrath — ke rushed furiously away with his hand upon his forehead, and three days afterwards Miss Argal heard with inexpressible astonishment and horror that he had put an end to his life. The statements of the paper were the mere fabrications of his rage and madness — the creations of a diseased intellect, aiming at revenge. That is all. Is not the explanation per- fect ?" " Tes," said Captain Wagner, as calm and cold as ice, "perfect. I have rarely heard anything so simj)le. And what did you do with the dead man's letter " I begged it of Mrs. Butterton, she jdelded — it is ashes.** Captain Wagner moved his head up and down with the game icy expression ; set his teeth firmly together ; and, gfter a moment's silence, said in a low voice : ^ Faloonbridge, are you a fatalist ?'* OTK ICAflTEB OF aREJaKYTAT OOUBfT. U? ••A Atalistf* said the young mat), lootiDg cnrioufelj? at kifl companion, surely not, comrade. God rules us and directs our Kves — all issues rest in his merciful hands, and we are told that not even a sparrow falls without the know- Aege of the kind Father of the Universe. I trust in aU to him — as I pray to him night and morning as my mother taught me at her knee. No, I am not a fatalist." " Well, from this moment I am," said the soldier, with a sombre glance ; " I don't deny your religious views- but J am none the less, from this day, a fatalist !" With these words the Captain entered the Ordinary, and Falconbridge, with a serious expression, mounted his horse to go to Mr, Argal's. This was the state of things, in connection with the main personages of our narrative, at the moment when we again take up the thread of events. From this time forth, each day and hour, everything ripened and advanced toward the catastrophe of the drama. 148 fAIBFAX; Oft* XXX. THE ABREST, OEOSS the prairie, sobbing mournfullT now iis th« cliiil, autumn wind — under the bare boughs of th« forest, studded here and there with eTeTgreens^ which only looked more cheerless from the sur- rounding desolation — through the sparkling waves of the Shenandoah, and into the rugged defile of the Fort Moun« tain, George passed at a rapid gallop, his eyes full of gloom, and his brow contracted. Lord Fairfax had informed him that on this day " Old Powell," as he was called, would be arrested on the charges made against him by a justice named Hastyluck, and the oflScials would probably go early. Georgia had received this information on the night before, witii utter horror and astonishment, and had besought Lord Fairfax, if the charge were witchcraft, to dismiss it as ab- surd and ridiculous. His lordship had replied coolly that this was quite out of his power, even if consistent with hiu convictions ; all he could jjromise was, that no act of op- pression should be performed; and with this Geor^jfe woM compelled to be content He scarcely slept, and at daybreak was on his way to the mountain. Never moderating the speed of his horse, whose mouth was filled with foam, he rapidly ascended the steep bridle- path and reached the door of the little mansion. The scene which greeted him made his cheek fluah and eyes flash fire. fSB MASTEB Of GMIMWAY COUBT. 141 The officers of the law had already arrived, and placed th« old man tinder arrest. One of them was curiously examin- ing the strange coin which George had seen on a former oc- casion, and which the man had picked up from among some books on a table — ^the other was about to place upon the wrists of old Powell a pair of iron hand-cuffs, in spite of the tearful and trembling prayers of little Cannie, who had clasped the arm of his shaggy overcoat, and begged him, crying, not to use them. George advanced quickly into the apartment, and confront- ing the officer, said sternly : " That is quite unnecessary, sir I Mr. Powell cannot escape from you I* The officer turned hastily, and said with an insoleni Bcowl: " Who are you, pray ?" " My name is of no importance,*' George returned, with a hauteur in strong contrast to his democratic opinions; '4t is enough, sir, that I command you in the name of Lord Fairfax to conduct the prisoner unfettered to Van Doring'a Ordinary." And putting his hand into his breast he extep led toward the person whom he addressed a slip of paper, upon which was written: **I desire, and if necessary require that the prisoner Powell may b« treated with all respect, and especially brought to Court without band- «• Fairfax. "GBJEEirwiT OouBT, ^thirao, 1748." George's foresight had led him to ask this favor of the Earl, which had been readily granted — and the vulgar official had no courage to resist. He scowled at the young man, whose cold, fixed look cowed him '.n spite of himself, and putting the hand-cuffs in his pocket, growled : Well it's nothing to me ; and you, old fellow, just oom« 150 FAIRFAX; OB, along with you ? You'll have a hard time of it, cufSi of M cuflfs.'* *^ It'll be harder 'n he thinks," here put in the other wai-^ thy with a sneer. "If I ain't mistaken, this is a counterfeit — he's a coiner, as I've heard hinted." A flash darted from beneath the shaggy white brows of the old man, and he reached forth to take the coin from th« hands of the speaker. But the hand fell at his side. An expression of scorn which might have become a royal prince, passed over his features, and he turned away. " Mr. George," he said, bowing with courtly gravity to th« young man, "I need not say that I thank you from my heart for this kind and thoughtful action. Of the result of this foolish business I have no manner of fear. I commit my child to you, in my absence — it is enough, to so honest a gentleman." Then adding calmly to the officials, who were evidently impressed in spite of themselves, by the dignity and coolness of his bearin.g, — *' I will be ready in a few moments to attend you," — the old man entered the inner apartment. He soon returned wrapped in a comfortable overcoat, which reached beneath the knee, and issuing forth, mounted the spar« horse which had been brought for him. How those intelli- gent gentlemen, the constables, had expected him to hold the bridle with his hands secured remains a mystery to thii day — ^but the obstacle no longer existed — and with a tendef kiss upon Cannie's tremulous lips, and another bow to George, the prisoner set forward, between the two officers. We shall pass over the scene between George and Cannic — such distressing pictures are not to our taste. He con- soled her with every possible assurance calculated to calm her emotion — but all was in vain. The girl begged him, with tears in her eyes, and nervous sobs, to take her to her grandfather, and it was one of the hardest tasks which George had ever imdertaken, to resist these moving entrea- ties. He did resi»t, however, by an immense exertion of will, OTB MA8TEB OF GREEITWAT COUBT. 161 for he knew that to yield would be to a Id to the child's mi- happiness by showing her the old man, formally arraigned for trial — and all Cannie could procure from him was a. promise that he would go at once and see that her grandfa- ther was not treated cruelly. "That should never be George said, with that fla&h ol the eye which betrayed the depth of his character, and the strength of will lying beneath the calm exterior — " he would go at once ! there was nothing to fear !" And leaping on his horse, he put spur to the animal, and galloped at full speed down the mountain. Cannie followed him with her eyes, which the tears ahnost blinded, and prayed inaudibly for strength and protection from One in whom she was accustomed to place all her trust. She saw George disappear, in the forest — than reappear in the open space, galloping violently as before: and finally, on the banks of the river, saw him join the oflScers and theii prisoner. Then the whole cavalcade disappeared, and Cannie fell upon the bench of the Httle porch, covering her face with her hands, and uttering sobs so passionate that her bosom, and the long, fair hair, which had fallen, and now rest45d upon her shoulders^ were shaken, as by a convulsion. m XXXI. LIGHTrOOT. / E preserved this attitude still, wlieu a loot- (tep was heard upon the path near at liand, and failing her head she saw the young Indian, whom we have twice alluded ko in our chronicle. He wa? clad as before, in fringed leggins, joined by a pli- able garment of soft doeskin, reaching to his waist, which was encircled by a leathern belt, upon one side of which were secured a bundle of arrows: — his feet were protected by or- namented moccasins, fitting tightly to the high instep and nervous ankle: — above his brow drooped, as before, the vari « egated plume, his badge of chieftainship. As he leaned upon his long cedar bow and looked upon the child, his bare breast shghtly heaving, and his noble features full of tende? pity and affection, he presented a subject for a great pain- ter. Cannie rose quickly to her feet, and hastening to his side said hurriedly: " Oh, Lightfoot I I thought you were far away ! I know you wiU help me 1 Can you take me over the river ? Grand- pa is to be tried, and I must not, cannot stay here 1 — Light* foot, you are a good, true friend." She stopped, overcome with agitation: — one hand resting on his arm, her eyes turned up to his face beseechingly. The young Indian looked into the sweet countenance with a sudden color on his swarthy cheek, which betrayed the ex- tent of the interest he felt in the . speaker. But when he spoke, his words were calm and measured ; long training had made self-control a second nature with him* We shall THE MASTEB OF GBEENWAY COTOT. 168 not record his reply in the broken EngKsh -which was all he possessed — ^though the sad, musical tones made that defect- ive dialect not destitute of a singular charm. " Is not Lightfoot the true friend of the Mountain Dove he said. " He has known her very well, and loved her for many moons — and her father has been kind to the poor In- dian who left his tribe to wander here among the places of his childhood." "And you have been kind, very kind to us, Lightfoot You have more than once kept the Indians from attacking us — and I would have died that day when the moccasin bit me, if you had not brought the herb to cure me. And now, Lightfoot, you must be my friend. You must take me over the river to Mr. Yeardley's — I know he will let me go in his wagon to the court. Will you, Lightfoot ? — do not refuse me, dear Lightfoot I" The swarthy cheek again colored sHghtly, but the voic€ was calm when he said : " Lightfoot loves the little dove of the mountain — he will do her bidding now and always — ^he would willingly die for her." And with these grave words, which were accompanied by a sudden flash of the eye, in which might have been read an expression of deep tenderness, the young chief assumed the attitude of one who waits patiently. Cannie hastened into the house, threw a cloak upon her shoulders, tied her chip hat under her chin, and came forth again quickly. The two then rapidly descended the moun- tain — the Indian often taking the little hand to assist hia companion over some obstacle in the path — and thus they finally reached the river. From a sheltered nook, over- shadowed by a great drooping pine tree, Lightfoot sUently produced a gum-log canoe, and placed the girl in it. A iweep of the long paddle sent it ten yards into the current; and they were soon on the opposite side of the river. Aa oarefaUy concealing the skiff as before^ the Indian and hia 154 FAIBFAX; OB, companion then hastened on, and before very long, came in sight of Mi\ Yeardley's. Lightfoot allowed the girl to go on alone — and from his hiding-place saw her enter the rudo mansion of the settler, before which a Kght wagon, drawi4 by a pony, was standing. In ten minutes she came out again, with the rough, but good-humored borderer, who placed her in the vehicle, got in nimself, and drove off. Lightfoot leaned upon his cedar bow, and followed the wagon until it was out of sight, with his sad smile and look of wistful affection. He wa^s thinking of Cannie's parting words, as she pressed his hand in both of hers and said : " Come to our house to-morrow, Lightfoot ! — you are my dear, kind friend!" The words had made his breast thrill, and a joyful Ughet illumined his features. Then the sadness came, and ha murmured : *'She lo\es the pale-faced youth. lam naught to her. But Manitou will speak. It is well." With these words he tm-ned and disappeared In tha foreoL na MAfiTEB OF SKEENWAY CO0BT. 166 xxxn. HOW CAPTAIN WAGNER OVERTHREW HIS ADTEBSAEy. N the main apartment of Van Doring's Ordinary, the worshipful justices of the County of Fred- erick were assembled, to take into consideration all questions touching the order, defence, gor- emment, and general condition of the region under their supervision. The Ordinary had been selected for the place of meeting at the request of Lord Fairfax. As one of the pieces of business which would come before the worshi]3ful justices, was the selection of a permanent locality for the court, and as Winchester and Stephensburg contended for the honor, and emolument in question — said his lordship — ^it would be fair to meet on the present occasion at neither of those places. Thus they would enter the arena of friendly com^ petition impartially, and without undue advantage. These views had received the approbation of the en- lightened justices, and they had accordingly assembled from every direction at the Ordinary of Mr. Van Coring — ^riding every description of animal of the horse species, and clad in iiiie most extraordinary diversity of apparel. Some of them were gentlemen of the first class, and these were well dressed, with some pretensions to grace and elegance. But the majority were like Major Hastyluck, rather unfavorable specimens of their species — low-browed, sharp-faced, wiry, keen-looking individuals, who evidently had an eye to the main chance under all possible circumstances, and, Uke a celebrated gentleman of more modem times, thought it well to be " shifty in a new country." A large crowd of a nondescript character had assembled on 166 7AIBFAZ; OB, the occasion — ^hunters, trappers, settlers — ^inany of ttem portly Germans, others trim, active Scotchmen:— and thia crowd moved about in front of the Ordinary, drank system atically of Mynheer Van Boring's Jamaica, and during thi first hours of the day, entered with enthusiasm into the business of trading horses — the animals being, for the iQOst part, plain to the inspection of all, at the long rack in front of the tavern door. About twelve o'clock a decided sensation was created in the crowd by tho appearance of a large Enghsh chariot, drawn by four glossy horses, from which vehicle, when it paused before the door, descended his lordship, the Earl of Fairfax, Lieu- tenant of the County of Frederick, and President of the body of justices. Lord Fairfax, who carried into the wilds of the New World something of the English idea of the propriety of full dress, on occasions of ceremony, was very richly clad. His coat was of brown cloth, decorated with embroidery; hia waistcoat of yellow silk, ornamented with flowers in silver thread; from his bosom protruded a mass of snowy ruffles, and his peruke was carefully powdered. Around him, as he issued from the chariot, he drew the folds of a rich red velvet cloak — and then inclining his head slightly to the admiring crowd, he entered the Ordinary.* A quarter of an hour after the appearance of his lordship, the sheriff was heard uttering his loud brazen " Oyez ! oyez 1 oyez ! Silence is commanded — ^humhum— humhum — hum 1 — God save the King !" — and the justices took their seats at a long table, at the further end of the apartment, the Earl occupying a large arm-chair in the centre. A little gentle- man, with an irresistible business air, sat at one corner of the board with a huge volume bound in leather, lying before him — and near the door, at a respectful distance from the • The chief details of this description are faithful to accurately preserved tradition, Hie Tradition was communicated to the present writer by tha aon of a gentleman whg flMtod the Earl at Greenway Court— «aw hia handioma ohaziot^ and T«d TVlinl oIq>^. M dlM4 la atete at tha hcoftd bowd. 1 THE MASTEB OF (JBEENWAT COURT. 157 members of the court, the crowd — among whom might b« 1 Been Falconbridge, George, and Captain Wagner, convers* ing — looked on with interest. The clerk read some previous proceedings in a monoton- ous voice — the justices consulted in a low tone with Lord i Fairfax ; — and then the Earl leaned forward and said, turn ing his head first to the right, then to the left : ] " Is the court prepared to vote upon the selection of a ' county-seat ? I need not inform you, gentlemen, that the \ question will chiefly lie between Stephensburg and Winches- ter. I shall, therefore, request each justice, as I address j him, to pronounce one or the other name, which I will note i down as it is uttered." A considerable sensation among the crowd greeted these i words, and a hubbub of voices for a moment deafened every j one. " Silence in the court 1" cried the sheriff, with fierce in- I dignation; " silence, or the court-room will be cleared 1'* , " No, sir ! Winchester, or the devil take it I" resounded . dear and sonorous in the sudden silence, and the sheriff j started up with ferocious abruptness. ; "Silence! Captain Wagner, you are disturbing the ' court! Silence!" | " My dear friend," said the voiee of Captain Wagner, as { that worthy advanced from the mass, with clanking spurs | and sabre, " I have the utmost possible respect for this most j honorable court, and the little remark which fell from me j was spoken confidentially to a friend, who is an advocate of | Stephensburg. Now, I'm only a poor soldier, and nothing \ of a lawyer, but I will maintain that Wiachester, and no ! other place, ought to be selected for the county-seat. I I have my reasons," added the Captain, mysteriously, " and if \ this most honorable and r^pectable body would listen to i the said reasons^ I could satisfy their mindsf, or may khe- ] I 158 FAIRFAX, OB, What foDowed, or nearly followed, was lost in the Cap- tain's huge beard. The ghost of a smile flitted over the countenance of Lord Fairfax : — it was his favorite music, the sound of that mar- tial and sonorous voice — and he recalled all at once ihfl * declaration of war " by the soldier, on his arrival in the Valley. As to the Cai>tain, he pushed up his great black moustache with his finger — ran his eyes along the hne of jus- jices, among whom were Mr. Argal, and Major Hastyluck— and finally concentrated his gaze upon the face of the Eai^l, with an expression which said, plainly, " Honor bright, my lord r The luiking smile came again to the Earl's face, and tarn« ing to the coiu*t, he said : " Gentlemen, if it is your pleasure, we will listen to Cap- tain Wagner's reasons for selecting Winchester. He is well acquainted with the country, and its interests, and if you permit him, may throw light upon the question." A glance of much admiration fi'om the soldier rewarded bis generous enemy; and when the court acquiesced in the E'dvVii recommendation, the countenance of the worthy, whicli before had been filled with the elements of fear, was now fringed with the radiance of hope, and expanded with the delight of a great orator who feels that the moment haa arrived for his triumph. The Captain bowed his head, then raised his martial brow erect — and extending one arm per- suasivety, plunged with eloquence into the middle of the subject. It is again, as on a former occasion, matter of deep regret to the faithful historian of Captain Wagner's exploits, thai the absence of professional reporters, at that remote period, renders it impossible to accurately record the vivid elo* quence of his speeches. As in the case of Patrick Henry, and other celebrated men, the legend of his power alone remaina. We may safely say, however, that the eulogium pxaooimced upon the town of Winchesteij by the militfti; THE MASTER 01' GREENWAT COUBT. 159 orator, was one of transcendent beantj and stirring impres- siveness — while Stephensburg dwindled away into a tenth- rate cross-road assemblage of huts, unworthy of the atten- tion of any one for an instant. The Captain concluded by a pathetic and affecting appeal to the honorable justices to be guided in their decision by no considerations of self interest, by no preference ioT persons — to remember that ^inborn millions would be affected by their determination, and form their opinion of the members of the court by the m^Jiner in which they discharged, on this groat occasion, their solemn and responsible obligations. With this eloquent appeal the Captain ended his oration, and retired modestly into the crowd. The smile on the Earl's face had come back in full force — and tmrning to his associates, he said : " Gentlemen, you have heard the reasons given by Cap- tain Wagner, but I imagine you have discovered in them nothing to largely modify any opinions which you may have t>efore made up. If the members of the court are ready to fote, I will submit the question.'* As no objection was made, the Earl called in turn the name of each — mailing a mark as they responded, either under "Winchester," or "Stephensburg," which were writ ten upon a sheet of paper. The result was that the first had five marks, the latter but four — and Winchester was oelected as the county-seat of Frederick by a majority of one. As he inscribed the last vote — that of the worthy Major Hastyluck — a slight flush invaded the swarthy cheek of the Earl, aiid he leaned back haughtily in his arm-chair. The result seemed to cause hhn no less surprise than dissatis- tion; and for a moment ho remained silent, looking coldly at the court. Then v/ith an irritated flirt of the hand he tossed down the paper, saying, simply : "Winchester is ciicik^en/' The Earl's dijipkasure did not ImL, iiowever* It pkin^jf 160 VAIBFAX; OB, gubsided after the transaction of some additional Dnsineoi of a common-place nature; and when a short period for rest was taken by the court, who went to supply themselves with cups of Jamaica, Lord Fairfax approached Captain Wagner and said, calmly : " WeU, you are yictor, sir — I congratulate you upon yoiuf triumph !" "My lord," said Captain Wagner, making the military salute, "there is something finer than to get the better of an adversary — ^it is to act toward that adversary with the chivalry and fairness that your lordship has displayed on this occasion/' It was the Captain's honest opinion, and the ill-humor of the gratified Earl completely disappeared. TBI JOSTm Of aEKEKWAI OOWT. xxxm. THE WIZAIID OP THE MASSINUTTON. T was not until late in the evening that the case of tlie singular inhabitant of the Fort Mountain came up for examination. He was brought from the private apartment in which he had been confined, into the main room in which the array of justices were seated behind the long table, and directed to sit down until he was called — "when," added the individual who had arrested him, "you'll have a chance, my proud-looking old fellow, to say if you are guilty, or not guilty, and I've got my opinion as to how it'll turn out." With these comforting words the vulgar officer retired, and left his prisoner to himself. That personage seemed to pay no manner of attention to him who thus addressed him. Had no one been beside him — no voice sounded in his ears — ^he could not have exhibited a more perfect unconscious- ness of being spoken to. He was looking with a gloomy and fixed glance at Lord Fairfax, who occupied his former position in the middle of the line of justices : and thus, mo tionless, stern, wrapped from head to foot in his old gray over-coat, shaggy and soiled with long use, he presented a singular spectacle. His long gray hair half covered his face, which inclined forward, and the keen eyes, burning beneath the bushy wnite eyebrows, were never removed for a mo- Anent from the face of the Earl. The rude crowd swaying to and fro at the door, regarded the prisoner with superstitious interest; and as the shades of evening began to descend, and his figure grow gradually less distinct in its outlines^ they watched him with as maob WAIBMAX ; OR, mtensity as if they liad expected him ere long t© melt into tliin air, and disappear, with a disagreeable smeJl of sulphm only left behind. The remote and retired life of the old man, his system- atic non-attendance upon any occasions of public assembage in the small towns, or at social gatherings — the mysterious manner in which ho had arrived a year or twc before, no one knew wlience — and above all, the dense smolie which was fi'equently seen, even in the hottest days of summer, curUng above the summit just beneath which his cottage was situated — all these things had strangely impressed the rude and credulous inhabitants of the frontier, and led them to bestow upon him the name by w^hich he was known throughout the region — "The Wizard of the Massinut* ton," What had induced the drunken justice, Hastyluck, to set on foot a prosecution against him for diabohcal proceedings, it was difficult to say. It may have been some private spite — or the attempt of a sottish hanger-on to bolster up a damaged reputation by an affectation of zeal in his office of justice — or lastly, the mere enmity of a small, ill-natured mind against one apparently without friends. Kowever this may be, it is certain that Hastyluck set the matter on foot; and in his vagabond wanderings among the rude and ignorant settlers — especially those from the witch- haunted land of Germany — he had experienced Uttle diffi- culty in impressing upon their minds the idea that every misfortune which had ever happened to them had been caused by the " Wizard of the Massinutton." More than one of these superstitious people were now present, prepared to testify with the utmost distinctness against the prisoner — and Major Hastyluck, who had spent a considerable por- tion of the day in swilling Jamaica in Mynheer Van J)oj> ing's inner room, now rubbed his hands and regarded tUe Htpo wizards seated before him with maudlin triumph. TSB MASTEB OF OBEEirWAT OOUBT. 163 The piifloner, Fowell,'' said Major Hastylnck^ in a tldci and Btammering voice, "will now be aiTaigued. Lord Fairfax, whose place bad tlius been unceremoniously Assumed by the drunken Major, turned with, a fro\Yiito that gentleman, and said with some hautem*: " I pray you, sir, permit the business of the court to pro- ceed regularly.* To which cold worde Major Hastyliick, who was quite beyond the influence of hauteur, responded with the re- markable words, uttered with shocking indistinctness- '^Hans Doppelkraut 'U teU you !" After which the Major assumed an expression of much dignity, and attempted to pare his nails with a goosequilL The Earl bestowed a withering glance upon Lis associate, which, however, fell powerless, and making a sign to the sherilGf, that excitable gentleman summoned the prisoner to stand and say whether or not he was guilty of witchcraft. The prisoner, thereupon, rose and said, ''I am not guilty,*' in a calm and indifferent voice. Then taking his seat, he fixed his eyes as before upon Lord Fairfax. Carl Zellycreffer being called, testified in broad German, that his child had been afflicted with internal dropsy and rickets, which he believed to have been caused by the wiz- ard. Being interrogated as to the foundation for this opin- ion, his reply was unsatisfactory. Hans Doppelkraut succeeded this worthy. Hans testified that he believed his cattle to have been destroyed by the wizard's shooting them with hair balls, as no marks of dis- ease, or violence were discovered upon them : — his neighbor, Flangel, who was too sick to attend, was certain that his ill- ness was caused by the wizard's changing hkn iato a horse, bridling and saddling lihn, and riding him at full speed 07er the very top of the Foi^ fountain, to a meeting of witches and wizards in the " Hog Back." He, the witness, did no* know how this was — ^but he could say, that in his opinion his own oowB had been made dry by the priBoner, by fixijog a pin in ^ towel for each cow— hanging the towel Otef ft door, and drawing the milk from the friages. The officer had told him they had seen a towel at the prisoner's house : — and that the "Hog Back " was the most probable place for a meeting, such as neighbor Flangel had declared he waa ridden to, saddled and bridled, with heavy spurs dug every instant into his sides — ^wMch marks, by some vdtchcraft at the prisoner, were, however^ not visible when he returned to his himian shape. Having given this perspicuous testimony, Hans Doppel^ kraut stood aside, and Joe Gunn, hunter and trapper, was called. Joe Gunn, for his part, didn't know whether there was any sech thing as witchcraft or not, and only hearn about it. He had been acquainted with hunters who said their guna were bewitched and wouldn't shoot straight — and when Black, one of his hounds, couldn't be got to hunt of late, he had burnt him in the forehead with a hot iron — after which he didn't know whether he hunted or not, for, like an ongrate- ful varmaint, he run away. Major Hastyluck there had told him, Joe Gunn, "strange things was in the wind now- abouts " — and asked him if he was well; when he, Joe Gunn, told the Major that he did have a little tetch of the rhuma- tiz from sleeping out o'-nights on the ground, the Major had asked him solemnly if he was sure that this was not caused by Powell. He, Joe Gunn, replying that in this miserable world there was nothing whatsoever that was nat rally sar tin but unsartinty, the Major had advised him to draw a pio* ture of the wizard on a plank, and shoot at it with a bullet containing a bit of silver. His old woman wouldn't hear ol any such waste of precious metals, and he fired away at the picture, drawn on the fence in charcoal, with an ordinary bul* lei Tlie Major told him the bullet would hit the old wizard all the same as if he was really there — and so, not wanting to kill anybody, and knowing Long July Ann, his rifle, sent the ball right where he put the bead, he aimed at tha ri^ht TOE MASTER OF GREENWAY COUBT. 165 Bhonlder, and put it there. If the talk about wizards "wafl true, the prisoner ought to have an ounce of lead in his right shoulder — which he, Joe Gunn, wouldn't like to have in hia own — and that was all he knew about it.* A singular expression of surprise passed over the face of the prisoner, who nevertheless did not move. " Search him, search him, according to the law of witch- craft!" came with maudlin energy from the drunken Major on the bench: — and many of the justices evidently acqui- esced in the propriety of this ]_ roceeding. But before the of* ficious worthies of the law could approach, the prisoner rose slowly to his feet, and opened his lips to address the court. * **The belief in writchcraft was prevalent among the early settlers of the Western country. To the witch was ascribed the tremendous power of inflicting steange and in curable diseases, particularly on children — of destroying cattle by shooting them with hair balls, and a great variety of other means of destruction — of inflicting spells and curses on guns and other things — and lastly, of changing men into horses, and after bridling and saddling them, riding them at fiiU speed over hill and dale to their frol- Icke and other rendezvous. . , . Wizards were men supposed to possess the same mischievous power as the witches The diseases of children, supposed to be inflicted by witchcraft, were those of the internal dropsy and the rickets. The symptoms and cure of these destructive diseases were utterly unknown in former times In the country. Diseases which could neither be accounted for nor cured, were usu- ally ascribed to some supernatural agency of a malignant kind. For the cure of the diseases inflicted by witchcraft, the picture of the supposed witch was drawn on a Btump, or piece of board, and shot at with a bullet containing a little bit of silver. This biillet transferred a painful and sometimes a mortal speU on that part of the witch corresponding with the part of the portrait struct by the bullet The witch had but one way of reheving herself from any spell inflicted upon her in any way which was that of borrowing something, no matter what, of the family to which the Bubject of the exercise of her witchcraft belonged ! I have known several poor old women much surprised at being refused requests which had usually beep granted without hesitation, and almost heai't-broken when informed of the cause cf the refusal. When cattle or dogs wore supposed to be under the influence of witchcraft, they were burnt in the forehead by a branding-iron, or when dead, buined wholly to ashes. This inflicted a speU upon the witch, which could only by removed by borrowing as above stated. Witches wei^e often said to mL\ the oows of their neighbors. This they did by fixing a new pin in a new towel for each cow intended to be milked. Hiis towel was hung over her own door, and by means of certain incantitions, the milk was ex- tracted from the fringes of the towel after the manner of milking a cow. This hap- pened," adds the reverend historian with dry humor, "when the cows were toe jwi k) glYf much milk."— DoddrKl^g'* Notes : pp. 876-7, in XervTievaTs ffistcry q^" tfv rtUUy or VirgiHia, 168 VAIHFAX; OS, At the same moment a stir was heard at the door, scmic pitying exclamations were uttered by the crowd, and thiongh an opening which was speedily made for her, Cannie ad- vanced into the coui't room. The wagon of good Mr. Yeardly had broken down, and she had just arrived at the Ordinary —trembling, pale, shaking with an indefinable fear. The sight of the old i.^an, however, seemed to give her strength. The power of a resolute wiQ, and a devotion which spurned all fear, came to her assistance — without shedding a tear, or hesitating a moment, the young girl, with the air of a little queen, went to the side of the prison- er, and throwing one arm ar'>^ir}d him, nestled *dose to hia bosom. But the trial was too mueii ki>r ber— the agitation she had undergone too excessive — the proud and defiant look which she directed at Lord Fairfax an< i the justices, was succeeded by a nervous tremor, and burying her face in the old man's breast, she clung to him, and sobbed wildly: Grand papa ! grand papa ! they shall not take you from me ! They shall not ! — ^no they shall not, while I am alive I" A flood of tears foUowea these words, and for an instant a dead silence reigned throughout the apartment. AU eyea were fixed upon the tall gray-haired man, clasped in the embrace of the beautiful and devoted child — and as they stood thus, bathed iu the red b'ght of the declining sun, there was something so proud and noble in the forms of both, that She crowd was hushed and awed. The sUence was broken by the prisoner. *^My liord," he said, calmly, in his cold, austere voice, ''my Lord and Gentlemen of the Court, I beg you to take notice that this presence of my child was against my vnshes — would scorn to make use of any such vulgar trick to ex- cite your sympathies. This absurd accusation of witchcr^ift tias been heard — the witnesses have testified — I might go to my hoxxm aga^n^ cleared of the foolish imputation — but tbeipe THIB MASTER OF GEEENWAY OOUKT. 167 is still another charge to be brought against me, I believe Before that charge is made, I (jrave a few moments' private conversation with the presiding justice of the court— my lord Fairfax. In making this request, I am not impelled by any fear of the result, or any wish to conciliate your lordship's favor. My child is agitated — would be home again — I have other reasons, my Lord Thomas of Denton — Fairfax, I should say. I pray that I may speak with your lordship." At the words " Lord Thomas of Denton," the Earl gave a visible start and leaned forward in his chair, vainly endeav- ouring to read some secret in the countenance of the prison- er. But that countenance defied all his penetration — it was cold and impenetrable — a mask might have conveyed mora expression. Lord Fairfax drew back with a deep sigh and a bewildered look, which was extremely unusual with him — ^but said nothing. Then seeming suddenly to recollect the request of the prisoner, he rose to his feet and said hurriedly : " I pray the court to suspend its business for a brief peri- od. I am willing to grant the private interview which the prisoner craves. I know not the character of the communi- cation which he is about to make to me, if it be a communi- cation — but trust I may rely upon the good opinion of my honorable associates, that nothing will be taken into consid- eration by me without their privity and advice." Major Hastyluck, who had been for at least an hour with out a fresh potation, cheerfully replied for his brethren, that they had perfect confidence in his lordship — and then the Major showed the example by staggering pompously from his seat toward the inner room. Lord Fairfax, still absent and looking with vague curiosi- ifj toward the prisoner, made a sign to tJiat personage, and passed up the staircase to his private room. The old man, with soothing words and a smiling caress, entrusted Oannie into the hands of George, who hastened 108 fUBFAX; OB, fcxrward to olTer her hi» arm, and then wrapping his shaggy OTer-coat more closely around him, stalked tlirough the group of insolent and astounded bailiffs after the Earl. In a few moments the door was locked behind them, ftZkl ihej were alone together. TBM MASTKB OF ansmwxj ooxm 109 XXXIV. THB PBISOlffKB AND THE JT7DGB. HE two men looked at each other for some mo- ments in silence. There was something striking and impressive in this silent examination by each of his adversary ; and points of great similarity were not wanting, at least in the carriage of their persons. Neither of them had anything in common with the hum- bler class of human beings. Both men, in their attitudes, bearing, and poise of head and feet, were plainly of that rank accustomed to command and not to be commanded, — to question but not to be questioned. An indifferent spec- tator would have said, however, that the mysterious " wiz- ard " was the superior, and the stronger of the two. There was something superb and haughty in the figure no longer bent, but as straight as an arrow, in the eye flashing clearly beneath the shaggy white eye-brow, in the proudly com- pressed Hp, the forehead raised calmly aloft. Lord Fairfax had the air of a nobleman, but the stranger that of a mon- arch. " "Well, sir," said the Earl, betraying unmistakable aston- ishment, for no man had a quicker eye for the indefinable evidences of superior character. " Well, sir, now for your private communication. You have made a somewhat sin- gulai' request, and used a mode of address which indicates former acquaintance. Where and how did you learn that * Lord Thomas of Denton ' was my name upon my patrimon- ial estate, and there alone? Speak, sir I — let us end this mystery. I listen I" 8 170 TklRTAX, -^K, And sitting down, his lordskip motioned with eoxA cocr- teBy toward a chair opposite to his cwn. His companion did not take the offered soat, ^nt saidi oooUy: "Then you do not recognize me, my lord?" **No, sir; I find, it is true, something strangly familiar rn your features, but " " Possibly I may assist your recollection," interrupted the other; and throwing off his long overcoat, he stood before Lord Fairfax metamorphosed fit^om a rude backwoodsman into an English gentleman clad in the most courtly and im» posing costume. His coat was richly embroidered in scar let — his frill snow-white, — ^his waistcoat of blue silk, loaded with decorations, and falling over knee-breeches of the finest material " Have you forgotten me ?" he said coldly, as he saw the Earl give a great start and suddenly turn pale. Lord Fairfax almost recoiled, as the stranger advanced toward him, but by a powegrful effort summoned his strength again, and replied: "I have net, sir. You are Sir William Powys!" " Yes, my lord," returned the wizard with a frown, " I am Sir William Powys ! Sir William Powys whom your lordship's father stripped of nearly all his possessions in Yorkshire — who swore enmity thirty years ago against your family — whose body bears the scar of a pistol baU lodged therein by your lordship, in the right shoulder here, as that hunter by a strange coincidence, declared — who Las left the Old World, as your lordship has left it, to come to the New, and who here, as there, finds one of the house of Fairfax eternally in his path, set in judgment over him, to oppose him, and strive to direct him, in all his acts ; to endeavor — vainly! vainly my lord! — ^to thwart and to crush himl Not content with alienating from me the heart of my daugh- ter, and marrying her against my wishes ! — not content with shipwrecking my happiness and hope in the Old World, your THE MASTER OP GREElTWAr OOCET, 171 lordship has followed me hither ! — you assemble a body ol low yeomen to try an English gentleman for wi/^hcfaft! Had I not requested this interview, the \ iilgar fellow who arrested me yonder would have preferred in addition a charge of counterfeiting coin! — against me. me, my lord ! me!" And the old man, with flushed cheeks and forehead, looked down upon the Earl with a fiery wrath which made his countenance almost terrible in its indignation. Lord Fairfax did not immediately reply. He seemed en- deavoring to control a sentiment as violent as that of his companion. His compressed lips and heaving bosom indi- cated the struggle which was passing in his mind, and ho was silent for some moments. The effort at self-control vv^ag Buccessful. His features slowly grew calm. The flush dia- appeared from his face, and returning the other's gaze with cold solemnity he said: " Sir William Powys, what you have just uttered is an in • justice unworthy of your character, and unlike your blood, which, in all its representives with whom I am acquainted, has been violent and implacable, but neither unfair nor un- generous. You know well that I have had no part in origi- nating this silly prosecution of you for witcluraft. You know that I am simply among these people, not of them, — as the Lieutenant of the county, as an o^cial bound to act oiBScially. So much for that. And touching the subject of counterfeiting, it was mentioned in my hearing but an hour ago. These are the wrongs which I have inflicted upon you as you declare, in the New World V The Earl paused a moment, then continued gloomily " Of events in England I would rather not speak: except to say that you have heard of the usual injustice. I do not be- lieve that my father was narsu uoward you — but let that pac3s. In SL single accusation, you are just. I did force a quarrel with you and wound you, — I regretted it. I still re- gret it; it was unnecessary. But touching the last charge, - here. Sir WiUi&oi Powys, I have nothing to blame mjseli 172 FAIRFAX; OR, with. I honestly loved your daughter — she honestly lored me; in spite of your hatred for my family, she became my Countess — ^if against your wish, as you say, still not without your legal consent. But enough, sir. These memories move me bitterly. Let the past sleep. I do not speak angrily as you see, Sir William; I address you as your rank and position demand. I have done, sir." There was so much nobiUty and sincerity in the tone of the Earl, that his words evidently affected the listener strangely. The menacing expression disappeared, and a gloomy calm succeeded. "My lord," he said, "I so far acquit you of this present annoyance as to fully believe that you had no part in it. The pain it has occasioned both me and my child, no less re- main. There is, besides, no certainty that in future it will not be repeated — and thus I have reason when I say that the name of Fairfax is my evil genius, for you are the real master and controlling influence in the country. But I pass that by. You have said that my family is implacable. That is only partly true of myself ; but I shall not discuss the question. I shall simply say that toward yourself personal- ly I have no ill feeling ; indeed I am conscious of having more than repaired aU your injuries, as some day you will know." Lord Fairfax made a motion with his hand and said with noble simplicity: "I would rather have it so than otherwise, sir." The words seemed to dissipate still, further the enmity of his companion. He sat doAvn, and when he spoke again, his voice was greatly changed. It was almost sad. "My lord," he said, "this is a strange and sorrowful world — ^have you not found it so ?" " Eminently," replied the Earl, sadly. "I am more than seventy years old; you must be nearly or quite fifty. Well, at our respective ages, men should strive to forget the passions of their youth — ^the enmiti^ THE ICASTER OP GBEENWAT OOTTHT. 178 and hatreds which sear the soul. Ton have wronged me — I have wronged you. There let it rest. I am willing to forget all, and to go upon my way without cherishing any thoughts of vengeance in my heart. I will do more: I will right the wrong I have done you — ^here the brows of the speaker contracted painfully — "but not now. Let us come to the business which made me request this interview." The Earl inchned his head with great courtesy, and lis- tened. "Nearly two years ago," said his* companion, "I bought of your agent here — I never expected to see you in Virginia — ^the tract of land upon which I live with my granddaugh- ter. I removed from my small estate on the seaboard, be- cause the chills and fevers of that region, for a portion of the year, render it dangerous to her constitution; and again because she derives singular benefit from a mineral spring in the ' fort ' yonder. I brought with me only a man and a maid, intending to return in the cold season, but have re- mained. One of the reasons for this decision, in addition to the health of my granddaughter, was the discovery of a mine of gold and silver, upon the tract, which I have worked with the utmost success." The Earl bowed with the same calm courtesy, and the speaker continued : " I know that by the charter granted to Lord Culpeper, from whom you derive your property in this province, you are entitled to one-fourth of the proceeds of all mines of gold and silver discovered upon all lands within Lord Culj^eper's grant, and I have accordingly laid aside carefully one ingot from every four, in a box marked " Lord Fairfax." In rela- tion to the coin discovered by the bailiff, in one sense it in counterfeit. I cast it from pure gold in a mould of clay, aa the amusement of an idle moment; and inasmuch as ita value, from the absence of all alloy, is one-fourth more than that of real coin, I imagine my moral innocence of the •barge of ooimng may be estabUshed. I have made thifi m FAIBFAX; OB^ explanation,** continued the speaker, "in order tc propcimil to you an interrogatory. I do so that there may be no mia- miderstanding, no ambiguity. Shall I be permitted to remain in this region undisturbed by legal annoyances, or must I go with my child to another ? The heart beats chill at seventy, my lord, and a man is disposed to quiet. 1 would ask no favor; I would have you reply as a mere mat- ter of business; I address myself to you as Lord Proprietor of the Northern Neck in which I Uve, and chief executive officer of the country." "As such I reply, Sir William," said the Earl, calmly, " that your further sojourn in the region shall be, as far as lies in my power, wholly freed from all annoyance. If I were not disposed to make you this assurance, with refer- ence to yourseK, I should do so for your granddaughter's sake. I cannot forget that she would have been the cousin of my children. No more of that. In regard to the fourth part of all gold mines, I do not claim that right in my char- ter — or, if you insist, I reply that I wish the child to receive the sum which you have laid aside — as a present from her uncle by marriage. I pray you, sir, not to refuse me this trifle. I shall not stop here, with your permission, in my privilege of displaying my affection for my little niece. I am truly proud to think of her as such ; a more perfect young princess I have never seen than the child, as she came to you in the court-room. But enough, sir. I shall - not let you offer me this gold again, as I think you intend ; let us return and terminate this business. All shall end at once." And opening the door, the Earl made a courteous gesture to the old man, who had again donned his long coat, to precede him, which resulted in their issuing forth together. In the two hearts thus close to each other, there was no longer any enmity; but in the elder's there was rain, and a cruel hesitation. They entered the room where the members of the court THB XABTSR OF GKBENWAY COXTBT. 178 wear© seated, and in ten minutes Lord Faii-fax had impressed apon his associates, in private conference, the entire ab- Burdity of all charges brought against the prisoner. Indeed the honorable justices were rather ashai^ed of themselves; and many looks of disgust were directed toward the person of Major Hastyluck, chief instigator and persecutor, who was slumbering serenely with his face on the table. The toils of his arduoi?s position had overcome this watdh-dog of justice; after all his labors and his Jamaica, he " slept well" The Wizard of the Massinutton was thus promptly dis- charged, and in a moment two soft arms were around hia neck, and a face wet with tears was pressed to his thin cheek. Cannie was crying on the old man's bosom.* * The following extract from ♦* A visit to the Fort Mountain," in the Southern Lft^' ary Messenger for February, 1841, vnll indicate the orij^ln of the character of Old Powell ;" the first lines describe the Massinutton: ** On the left bank of the creek, the mountain crowds against the narrow road— on the right, a granite escarpment of a thousand feet frowns down upon you— and the ravine Itself, clothed with a luxuriant gro%vth of pines, cypresses, and laurels, deepens the gloom of the overshadowing rocks. . . . On a sultry day, dispersed along the comb of the precipice, groups of these \ailtures (turkey buzzards) maybe seen, with their broad, rusty wings, half expanded to the breeze — resembling so many spirits of darkness, brooding over the gulf of perdition. The view from the bauk is splendid. Passage Creek is dimin- ished to a rivulet, whose murmurs are faint as the dying wind in the pines around us. Th« highway along its bank, seems but a Minding footpnth, over which tlie millboy's horse — didst think it was a small brindled dog with a whit€ spot on its back t-eteals without any apparent effort or motion of its own. Wliat a majestic mountain this across tha defile ! It looks like Atlas, strong enough to sustain the world upon its shoulder*. Within this fort a comparative abundance of wild game is still to be found, particularly wild hogs descended from the domestic breeds, but fierce as the monsters of the Py- renees. It is caUed " Powell's Fort," after one of the first settlers of the country, the tllley of tlie creek is also known as "the Fort." There is a curious and populai tra- tition cherished in the neighborhood regarding *' Old Powell." It is said th it he was an advocate of a specie currency, and to assist the Government in the promction a •pecie circulation, (established a hard money factory on his own responsibility, »Qd coined thousan'* 176 VAIBFAX. 0& XXXV. THE RESEMBLANCE. IIE old man gently caressed the soft hair of the cliild, and gazed into her face, which was all April smiles and tears, with a depth of tender affection which made the countenance, ordina- rily so proud and cold, almost beautiful and winning. Then raising his head, Sir William Powys, or the Wizard, if we may be aMowed to still employ the name by which he was most generally known, looked around upon the crowd, who regarded him with strange and superstitious interest. There were many persons in the assembly whose heads had moved significantly from side to side when the strange per- sonage demanded a private interview with Lord Fairfax. No good would result for his lordship, these wiseacres de- clared, from yielding to this demand. Once alone with him, the wizard would be sure to " bewitch " him — he would cast a spell on him, and then vanish in a cloud o^ brimstone. Some of these philosophers were by no means certain that if this were not the case, the mysterious wizard would not be seen issuing from the window of the tavern, mounted upon a handsome flying horse, once Lord Fair- tax; now destined to bear the prisoner away in triumph to aome diaboUcal royel of witches in the depths of the " Hog- Back." It restJted from this condition of public feeling, that when the wizard, who had fulfilled the expectations of the more moderate among the wiseacres, by procuring a prompi acquittal through his interview with the Earl, looked round apoM the crowd, they recoiled with an unmistakable expresh I THE MASTEB OF GKEENWAY OOUBT. 17T oon of dread, and left him standing, almost alone^ with his child, in the middle of the apartment. A sUght curl of the hrm lip greeted this movemeLt, and the wizard was about to turn away indifferently, when suddenly his eyes were riveted upon a richly-clad figure, framed, as it were, in the doorway, and gazing upon him with deep interest and sympathy. That figure was that of Falconbridge, who, having watched the absurd trial, and witnessed the scene between the prisoner and his daughter, now rejoiced at the result, and regarded them, as they stood wrapped in each other's embrace, with kindly sniiles and pleasure. The wizard fixed upon the young man, as he stood thus framed in the doorway, like a picture, one of those glances vhich seem to penetrate into the soul of the person upon ^hom they are riveted. There was much in the gallant and graceful form of Falconbridge — in his proud, laughing face, and elegant costume — to attract attention ; but the iook now bent upon him was not one of simple admiration or curiosity. It expressed surprise, deep fefMng, and a species of wondering doubt. The young man perceived the glance directed toward him, and without understanding it, approached, and said, kindly: "I am rejoiced at your acquittal, sir; as much for your own sake, as you seem very old, as for your little daughter. My father taught me to respect and bow to purity and de- votion wherever I met with them, and I think I cannot be mistaken in saying that your child is both innocent and courageous — faithful and noble-hearted." With these words, which were uttered in that tone of simplicity and sincerity, which characterized his voice, the young man held out his hand to Oannie, extending the other toward the old man. The girl's soft, little fingers glided into those of Falcon i 178 FAIBFAX; OB, bridge, and a grave, sweet glance, shining ^oxigh the teaiti in her eyes, rewarded the speaker. "Thank you, sir," she said, in her low, musical voioOp for speaking so kindly to us — to grandpapa. You are not like those people who have gone — your face is kind." And Cannie pressed the hand frankly, and looked " thanks I" with her whole heart. The old man had, however, drawn back unconsciously ^hen Falconbridge greeted him. He had not taken the hwind. Still, looking at him with that strange air which we have described, he said : "What is your name, sir?*' The words were almost rude, but the tone in which they ^ere pronounced did not so impress the hearer. The wizard plainly intended no sHght — ^it was some mysterious sentiment of wonder which spoke in his voice, in his abrupt question: and the young man comprehended this instinclr- ively. " My name is Falconbridge, sir," he replied, wth a courte- ous inchnation; "I have but recently come to this region.** *^ Falconbridge 1 I thought so ! I was sure of it 1" mur- mured the wizard. " Strange ! Strange ! who would ever have believed I" There he suddenly stopped. By a sudden and powerful effort he controlled his emotion; his countenance subsided again into its customary calmness, and he bowed in return, taking the hand which was stUl half extended. I tliank you, Mr. Falconbridge," he said, coolly, " and beg you will not attribute my singTilar ques-tion to any dis- position to affront you. You bear a very remarkable resem- blance to a person whom I once knew; thib must be my excuse for the very rude reception I have given to your kind speech and sympathy." " It is nothing — scarcely noted it," returned the young man, smHing, " and as to any kindness, I am sure, sir, that I deserve no praise. My heart leaped when your chilj raK MASTEB OF GREENWAY CCUBT. 179 came so bravely to your side —and I bow to, and honor her I have never seen a princess or a queen--but I think she ifl worthy to be either !" "Oh, sir," exclaimed Cannie, blushing, "you make me feel ashamed I It was notMng for me to come to grand- papa's side. He is all I have in world, and I love him dearly, with my whole heart. And you, grandpapa," added Cannie, turning and whispering to the old man vdth a smile, " you know you love me just as dearly." " That is very certain," was the low reply, accompanied by the look which always came to the face when it was turned toward the girl; "and now% my child, let us go to our private room. We must remain here all night — but we will return home early in the morning." " Come with me, sir," said the voice of Lord Fairfax, at the speaker's elbow, "I have ample room for you and your daughter at Greenway Court — it will be far more comfort- able." "I thank you, my lord," returned the other, with a cere- monious inclination, "but the nights grow chill, and my daughter is delicate." "The blinds of the chariot may be easily closed, sir," said the Earl, looking wistfully at Cannie. " Your lordship will not consider me ill-bred — that is to say ungrateful — ^if I stiU decline your goodness. If my child should wish at another time to visit Greenway Court," added the old man, exchanging a look with the Earl, " it will give me true pleasure to bring her thither — or to en- taist her to our good friend here, Mr. George. May I take that liberty, Mr. George?" That liberty! tli ought George, as his heart gave a bound at the idea of a long gallop through the prairie, with Can- nie's arm around his waist; but he suppressed his delight, Bud replied with extreme gravity and politeness, that it would give him very great pleasure. **And noWi my lord^'^ said the wizard, "let me, before I 180 FAIRFAX ; OB, leave you, say how much I am indebted to your lordship for my release from this prosecution — a p7'osecution which I dreaded far more for the grief it caused my child than on my own account. I am old, and care little what comes to me — whether of weal or woe — ^but she is young and tender- hearted. Thanks ! thanks, again for our freedom !" The speaker was standing as before, with his arm around Cannie, and by them stood Falconbridge, smiling. Not only the Earl, but George, and Captain Wagner, who were near at hand, were struck with the singular resemblance between the three, and afterwards spoke of it. One was sevenly, and gray-headed; the second twenty-three or four, and in the bloom of manhood; the child, a girl of fifteen, with innocent, sweet eyes, and tender hps. But the re- semblance was as perfect in all three as if they were the offspring of the same parents. For a moment they remained thus motionless, then bow- ing again, the wizard retired with Cannie to a private room, having arranged with Mynheer Van Doring on the way, for a vehicle in the morning. Lord Fairfax turned to Falconbridge, and said ; " I think you have not yet considted me upon your affairs, Mr. Falconbridge. If it suits your convenience at the pre- sent moment, you might accept a seat in my chariot, and sleep at Greenway. What say you, sir?" " I accept your lordship's offer with many thanks/' was the rej)ly. And very soon the young man and the Earl were rolling toward Greenway, beneath the new risen moon, whic \ min- gled its light v/ith that of the setting sun, and commui icateJ to the dreary stretch of prairie land a wild and mys> erioua charm. As to George, and Captain Wagner, they remained at tha Ordinary for reasons best known to themselves, but easily comprehensible by the reader. "&eorge staid t>ccause Ofumie woizld spend the night there ; the Captain beoftOflf TSl 1CA0TEB 07 GREEinrAT OOUBT 181 his eloquenoe had triumphed in favor of Winchester; and the fair Mrs. Butterton was, no doubt, ready to thank, per- haps to reward him. Meanwhile the chariot containing the Earl and Falcon- bridge roUed on in silence. The few common-place words had died away. Lord Fairfax seemed deeply preoccupied. At last, as they approached the clump of trees, indicating Greenway, the Earl raised his drooping shoulders, uttered a long, deep sigh, and muttered : " I wonder if a single heart beats still for me, in dear old England. No, I think not one I — not one I" 182 JTAIBFAX; OE XXXVI. CAMPAIGN OF GENEKAL LONGXNITa. HE Captain twirled his moustaclie. We would call the attention of the reader to &6 fact, which we h.£i\e hitherto omitted to mention, that Captain Wagner was always engaged in twirling his moustache. Or, if the statement seems extreme and improbable, let us simply say that he was often thus laboriously occupied, and seemed to derive much innocent satisfaction from the ceremony. On the present occasion he gave to the martial append- age a jaunty and gaUant curl toward the eyes; then he looked at Mrs. Butterton, who was busily knitting opposite the Captain, and the table by the Captain, upon which was deposited the Captain's warm glass of punch and unfilled pipe. Monsieur Jambot, for the moment in deep disgrace, was forlornly carrying on a sleepy conversation with Mynheer Van Doring in one corner — a ceremony which resulted be- tween the two in an awful mutilation of King George the Second's English. In another corner George and Cannie were talking in a low tone, and assisting what they uttered with smiles and confidential glances. M3 dear Mrs. Butterton," said the Captain, " have you any commands in Belhaven — or, as these new-fangled folks will call it, Alexandria f It's a siaame to be re-christening 90 promising a child — or I'm a dandy ! "Any commands in Belhaven?" asked the lady with a little aimper and flutter; "why do you ask, Captain 7" THE 30.STEB OF GBEEKWAY COtJBT, 188 Because I think it likely that 1*11 go back soon to aniuse myself. You remain here, I believe." These cold and cruel words made the lady's heart throb. Then Captain Wagner cared nothing for her ! " "Yes," she said, faintly, " perhaps till the spring." "I would liks to do as much myself/' continued the worthy, "but the rascally Injuns, whose scalps I was to have, won't come, and it is repugnant to the feelings of a •oldier to be living on that honest fellow, Fairfax, without doing him any service in return." " Why, Captain," said Mrs. Butterfcon, with evident admi- ration in her eyes, for one who spoke in this free and easy way of so great a nobleman, " why, Captain, his lordship is delighted at your visit, and I heard him with my own ears Bay, no longer ago than this morning, that you were worth a thousand pounds a year to him in good spirits I" "All flattery!" returned the soldier, "or I'm a dandy I I have remonstrated with Fairfax about that bad habit he has of trying to ingratiate himself with people by flattering them. He knew you were my friend—that you would re- peat it — and he is trying to get around me." " Oh, Captain ! How can you talk so of his lordship !" The worthy laughed. "He's only a man like anybody else, my dear Mrs. But* terton ; it's not his fault that he is called Earl and Baron, Fm free to say he'd be a dooms good fellow under any cir- cumstances. I like Fairfax. He's no pretender. And I repeat that I don't like to be eating and drinking, as / eat and drink, at his expense, when the Injun devils decline coming along and getting themselves cl one for I I was sent for to eat Injuns, not beef I to drink blood, not Jamaica I And these Injuns — where are they ? Nowhere, or may the --hum I" The soldier terminated this sentence by swallowing a mouthful of punch, which seemed to refresh him greatly. Wbj, Ciqrtain," said Mrs. Butterton, jou are oertainly fAiBfAx; on, mistaken about the chance of an inroad. The; say there's no certainty of peace fi'om day to day." " My dear madam," returned the Borderer, " it has been my habit for a number of years to hunt up Mr, * They Say, and when I have heard his views to go and lay my plans precisely to the contrary. I have no respect for * They Say.' I know the rascal — he is as completely ignorant of what is really going on as a mole ! Even if the Injun ras- cals do come along, let Fairfax send down for me! I can't be neglecting my most important affairs dangKng here-* abouts, and chopping arguments with his earlshipl" "Your affairs?" persisted the lady, smiling, "why, Cap- tain, you have no business m Belhaven, have you ?" The conversation was taking the direction which the cun- ning Captain desired. He smiled. " Well, really," he said, " I hardly know how to reply to you, my dear madam — to reply without touching upon a most delicate subject — ^you comprehend ?" The lady blushed, but said nothing. "It is true," continued Captain Wagner, "that many people would say I had no business whatsoever to attend to in Belhaven, Hke merchants, and shopkeepers, lawyers, and all that small fry, who are thinking all the time of money and nothing else—not Hke us soldiers, of honor and glory, and — ^hem! — love." " Of — ^love ?" asked Mrs. Butterton, faintly. What could the Captain mean? "I would not refer to these matters with any one else, my dear madam," said the worthy, edging his chair across to Mrs. Butterton's side, and speaking in low, confidential tones; " but you are my good friend, and are well acquaint- ed with- -the lady." "The lady" And Mrs. Butterton's voice died away in her throat. ^'Ihe fair Emmelina, your friend," whispered the Oap' THE MASTER OF GREENWAT COURT. 186 lain, bending over. But his companion's agitation mada her turn away her head — she could not reply. " Miss Emmelina/' continued the subtle campaigner, iai the same confidential tone, " is, it is true, past the bloom of youth. She is nearly my own age, indeed, I fancy, and thii might seem to many persons an objection. But is it really Buch ? I am tired, my dear madam, of your school-girls and young misses — ^your sweet young creatures, fuU of sentiment and romance — ^who clasp their hands when they look at the moon, and read poetry verses and say, ' Oh, how beautiful V I don't say I never admired 'em, but I'm past all that, or may — ahem! I now admire the ripe flower, not the bud — I confess I want a wife, and it has seemed to me that Miss Emmelina, your friend, whom you have so often praised, would make a noble spouse — and likes me well enough to give me a fair start — don't you think so — ^Emme- Una?" And the Captain scratched his nose, and regarded the ceiling, after this tender exclamation, with an absent and pre-occupied air, which was very striking. As to Mrs. Butterton, that fair lady remained for some time silent and blushing — then, on being again pressed by the Captain, replied that she thought — she had hoped — she — 'No ! Emmelina was not calculated to adorn the married state. No doubt Captain Wagner would think — and here Mrs. Butterton assumed a tone meant for hauteur — that she was unjust and unfriendly. Yet candor compelled her to Bay that she knew Emmelina well, but in spite of a most tender friendship for that lady, must say she was in the sphere she was best calculated to fill — that of an old maid* In that sphere, said Mrs. Butterton with animated feeling, EmmeHna was worthy of all praise. She had her little faults, such as a propensity to gossip, a disposition to pry into her neighbors' matters, and a talent for adding to and coloring all that she repeated, which no doubt arose from ker Bmartness. She had certainly been the cause ol that 186 FAIRFAX; OB, terribla fight at the comer of King Street, where the iwc lovers cf her comer neighbor bruised each other so awfoUf , and created such a horrible scandal; but she, Mrs. Butter- ton, was quite sure that Emmelina had never expected any such misfortune to take place in consequence of her com- municating the trifle which she did to one of the young ^en — ^it had given her great pain, and she had deeply re- gretted it. With these, and a few other little drawbacks — TOch as an undue love of money, a disposition to spend nothing more than she was absolutely compelled to — a strong dislike and suspicion of every one who did not belong to her particular church, she was very well in her way, as an old maid. Out of that condition, she, Mrs. Butterton, very greatly feared that Emmelina would not be a very per- fect character. She was httle suited for a wife, still, if Captain Wagner thought differently, it was no affair of hers. She hoped he would not find out too late the failings in EmmeHna's character. Having made this lengthy speech, which the Captain Ks- tened to with silent attention and a subtle smile, Mrs. But- terton apphed herself to her knitting in a more hurried manner than before, and assumed an air of studied indif- ference. " My dear madam,'* replied the Captain, with earnest and solemn feehng, " I thank you for this interest in me, but are you not misled somewhat in your estimate of the sweet Emmelina, by the opinions of those persons who dislike her? Are the fair sex at all given to gossip? I do not, I cannot believe it, my dear madam! I will never credit the assertion! True, I have heard it said that when they get to be old women — even after the tender and still blooming age of twenty-five, they experience the extremest pleasuj;e in the circulation of intelligence about their friends. The irreverent and low-minded individual who made this statement in my hearing, added that M The young lady, aa before, discovered that she was laboiiag under a cough, but this only hurried her de- parture. Mr, Argal thanked his lordfehip, but said that it was absolutely necessary for him to return that evening. Ajid so the horses were brought up, and the Earl assisted the young lady to her seat in the saddle. Did her ungloved hand retain his own, as it had retained Palconbridge's on that evening of their first meeting ? Was the sUght but clearly perceptible pressure intentional ? The Earl stood on the porch and watched them until they were out of sight; the languishing smile of IVIiss Argal as she departed, still before him. As he turned finally, and re-entered the house, he muttered : " I have never seen a beauty as superb, or a more brilliant mind! Let me beware 1 Love a woman again? It would be monstrous !" But all the evening he was thinking of her. 81i FAIBFAX; OB, £LIL IH THE MOUNTAIN, ?ALP an hour after the departure of Mr. Arga] and his daughter for Greenway Court, Falcon- bridge drew up before the house, and leaping from his horse, entered the mansion, smiling and joyfiiL Hjs love for the young lady had reached that point now, that out of her presence he scarcely Hved. His life was concentrated into those hours of each day when he sat by her, and looked into her eyes. All the rest was a dull, cold blank to him, with no pleasure in it all. He existed, simply, there at the Ordinary, and passed all his moments in mus- ing upon the interview which had passed by, or on the one which was to occur again on the morrow. As he mounted his horse to go away, his form would droop, his eyes be- come gloomy — when he put spur to Sir John, to go and see her, he was the picture of buoyant joy and light-heart- edness. These words will explain the emotion of the young man, when one of the servants informed him that Miss Argal had departed, and above all, departed for "Lord Fairfax's." As the words were uttered, he felt a dizziness, a sudden Binking of the heart. Lord Fairfax's! She had gone to Greenway Court I All the scene, when that morning she had insulted him so carelessly, rushed back; he remembered the whole interview; he saw her glances, her wiles, her witcheries to attract hip lordship. For a moment, then, he stood still and gazed at the servant with an expression which almost frightened her. THE MASTBE OF GREEIfWAT COUBT. 216 It was for a moment only. His presence of mind re- turned, and simply requesting her to inform Miss Argal of his visit, on her return, he issued forth and mounted his horse again. Should he go thither? Yes! He would go and be a witness of what he felt was the scene at Greenway — a wit- ness of her smiles and cajoleries, and fascinations, aimed at the Earl — ^he w ould go and sup full upon his jealousy and resentment ! And digging the spur into the side of Sir John, he set forward like lightning upon the road to Greenway. A mile from Mr. ArgaFs he suddenly drew rein, so sud- denly that Sir John reared and almost fell upon his haunches. Was it advisable to go there ? Would she rel- ish this persistent pursuit of her — this jealous supervision, as though he suspected hei fidelity to him? Was it worth while to go and suffer, and get no thanks, rather coldness for it? No 1 He would return to his lonely chamber and see no one. And he turned his horse^s head in the direction of the Ordinary, going along now very slowly, his head drooping, his brow overshadowed. "No, no,'' he murmured, "no, I cannot go back there. Mrs. Butterton would annoy me with her wearying conver- sation — need movement, fresh air." With these words he stopped and looked round. The Fort Mountain raised its great ramparts and seemed to beckon him; the prairie, swept by the wind, whispered to him. He had met George in the morning, at the Ordinary, on his way to the " Fort," and now remembering the fact^ directed his coui'se straight toward it. He at last reached the river; pushed b»s horse through the current, and skii-ting the noih^y Passage Creek, ascended the winding bridle-path toward the cottage of the wizard. As he went onward many wild sights and sounds greeted kim, and diaoipated, in a measure, his possessing thou^'hts 116 fASBfJiJil 0% A great eagle rose, with slow, flapping wings, from a 6tA^ near at hand, and swej)t av/ay into the opposite mountain: a stag flitted across a distant opening, and disappeared, more than once he heard in the tangled thicket near at hand, the stealthy tread of a panther or a bear, crackling OTer the dry twigs, and rustling the dead leaves of the forest. He went on without heeding these things, however^ and soon reached the steep knoll upon which the wizard's cottage was situated. As he arrived at this point, he all at once saw, in the porch of the house, a pleasant little inistio picture. On one of the benches a young girl was seated, graceful and smiling; and her smiles seemed to be occasioned by the attempt which a young man, occupying a lower seat at her feet, was making to place a wreath of pale primroses on her forehead. Beside them was stretched, indolently sleeping, a huge black bear, to whose presence no attention at all seemed to be paid. Cannie and George were so much interested in their oc- cupation that they did not hear the foot-falls of the horse, and it was not until Falconbridge had tied Sir John to a bough, and ascended the decHvity on foot, that they became aware of his presence. The bear rose with a growl, and exhibited a ferocious mouth filled with white, sharp teeth, but at a word from the young girl, accompanied by a warning tap on his head from her httle hand, lay down quietly again, and dozed serenely. The boy and the girl welcomed Falconbridge with the warmest cordiaUty, and Cannie, with a smile, informed him that he need fear nothing from "Brum,'' who was a long tried friend and pet, and quite harmless. With these words «he pushed the animal with her small foot, and bade him moTC Bruin acquiesced with perfect good humor, and rb- THS 1CA8TBB OF GBEENWAT COUST. S17 Ing lazily, waddled off to a sunny knoll, and lying dovro^ speedily went to sleep again. Cannie, meanwhile, had entered the house, and an- nounced the visit of Falconbridge to her grandfather, who soon came forth and welcomed him. They were still ex- changing courteous expressions, and the young man waa looking with great interest at Cannie, when another inci- dent occurred. A sudden fluttering in the air attracted their attention — a suppressed croak was heard — and an immense hawk, with an arrow through his wing, fell almost at the young man's feet. "Why, Lightfoot is here 1" said Cannie; "he has shot the hawk that was after my pigeons "Who is Lightfoot?" asked Falconbridge, whose gloom began to yield before the innocent smiles of the girl ; " an- other friend, like the bear?" " Oh, no sir 1 he is an Indian. He is a true friend, how- ever. He once saved my life, and we love him, even George. There he comes — ^he has been to see us twice lately — h« lives in the mountain." As Cannie spoke, the young Indian was seen approaching down the abrupt, almost precipitous path which led up- ward to the summit. From the tall mass of rock above, he had seen and transfixed the hawk, and now came to pick it up. He was welcomed with great affection by Cannie, and when she pointed to Falconbridge, and said : " This is another good friend, Lightfoot," the Indian stretched out his arm, and shook hands, as he had learned to do, with a grave dignity and courtesy which might have graced an amperor ^ 118 V AIM ax; OB, xmL flow AN Ammj4 oaxsajsx) the destines o? thbxb mjUAX bs* INGS. BEE day was spent happily by alL That confi- dence which soon springs up between persons of sincere and truthful natures, made the hours glide away without constraint or ceremony. The Indian and Falconbridge were not regarded in the light of strangers by the old man or his daughter; and as to George, we already know that he was on a footing of the most perfect famiharity and friendship. As they sat on the little porch, and looked forth on the beautiful scene of the forest and mountain, dancing streamlet and moss-clad rocks, a cheerful and inspiring influence seemed to fill every bosom, and Falconbridge was no exception. The shadows' which had lain upon his brow slowly passed away. His equa- nimity returned. From the little mountain cottage, nestling in a gash of the great lofty range, he looked down as it were upon the events of the morning, there in the Lowland, and regarded them in a different and more hopeful light. Had he not suffered himself to be carried away by a mere rush of jealous and irrational suspicion — by a fit of angry disappointment at not meeting the young lady ? What rea- son was there to find fault with her for accompanying her father on a ride across the prairie, when he doubtless had Bome business matters to transact with Lord Fairfax? Could he blame her — ^was there any, the least, ground for complaint or dissatisfaction ? Indeed, ought he not to feel some shame at having charged hor with unv9orthy motirea •▼en iiK his imagination? THE MASTEK OF GBEENWAY COUBT. 219 Wben his reflections brought him to this point, the whole •natter was ended. A noble nature always suffers deeply from the consciousness that it has committed an injustice ; with such the recoil is always powerful; the longing to make amends is irresistible. Falconbridge determined to be, in future, more kind and unsuspicious than he had ever been before ! — and thus having banished his absorbing thought, he became cheerful and even joyous again. Every object around him increased this sentiment. The fresh bracing air caressed his cheeks -^ ad forehead, and filled his pulses with buoyant life. He inhaled it with delight, and felt the last traces of his gloomy thought disappear. His com- panions were not unsuited to the scenes, nor to his change ol mood — Cannie looked up into his face with her bright smile, her tender eyes, and air of confiding affection. She had not forgotten how he came to the side of her grandfather on the day of the trial, and greeted him in his sincere voice, fuD of sympathy and kindness — how he had held his hand oat to herself, and said she was a little countess, and a good daughter. She had recalled his tones and looks and words, on her return, with strange pleasure; and now met him as a friend whom she had knov/ n and loved. And Falconbridge derived no less pleasure from the countenance of Cannie. He thought many times during the day that there was some- thing in the clear eyes and innocent lips strangely familiar — ^he seemed to have met with the girl far away in some other land, of which he retained only a shadowy recollec- tion. Unable to define or explain this emotion, he at last yielded himself up to the charm, and was happy at her side. If he turned from Cannie or the old man, or George, who was a favorite with him, it was to gaze with much interest on the graceful young Indian. Lightfoot evidently excited his curiosity and admiration. There was something simple and majestic about the Indian — the evidence or the posses- aion of those traits which Falconbridge had been tMght to 120 love and reverence all his life; true native dignity, simpHoitj and goodness. A close observer would have said, indeed, that these two youths of different race and training had come of the same blood. Both bore themselves with an unconscious pride, — both had the native truth and honesty of the forest, in eye and lip and tone of voice. "You are from the Lowland, I beheve, sir?" said the old man in his calm, collected voice, "the Tide- water region?" "Yes, sir," jeturned Falconbridge ; "from the banks ol Chesapeake — and I seem to have met with you, or some one nearly resembling you, somewhere " And the young man seemed to reflect. " Yes," he added suddenly, " it was in Williamsburg one day ! You were conversing with his Excellency the Gover- nor, on Gloucester Street — were you not, sir ?" The old man smiled, but replied guardedly. " I have visited Williamsburg, sir, and I am acquainted with his Excellency." " I was sure of it, Mr. Powell — I was there at College, and vras walking out that evening with a friend, when I saw you. Did you live near the town ?" "No, sir," returned the other, " higher up the country. STou see I have come up still further into the mountains, and perhaps I shall spend all my days here. There is something Btrangely noble to my eye in these bristUng ranges, and I ghould Hke to sleep my last sleep on the summit of one oi those peaks." And I, too," said Falconbridge musing: "true, it is a matter of small impoii:ance where the poor body rests when the spirit has left it — in the depths of the ocean, in the desert, in the air as the Indian race prefer — ^in the lowland or the mountains. But something of the old preferences govern us even in this. For my part I would hke my gra^ve to b« on the summit of this very mountain — on the forehead it- •elf of the sleeping giant, if I may call it such — ^yonder, where that great eagle is swooping toward the immense pmi TFCB MASTER OP GREElilWAT OOXm, 221 ftgamst the sky, full in the sinking sun. And that remindi me, George," added the speaker, turning to his compan- ion, " that we should set out for home unless we wish to be benighted. I have had a happy day, sir, and thank you all for it." With these words Faloonbridge rose. "I have something to give you for Lord Fairfax, sir," saia the old man, " as you no doubt will see him. I will procure it, and request you to take charge of it." He retired as he spoke, and soon returned with a small package, secured with a heavy wax seal, which he handed to Falconbridge. The young man thought it somewhat singu- lar that it had not been entrusted to George, who was going straight to Greenway, but said nothing, and bade all fare- wen. George, however, was not ready : a circumsttince which he explained by saying that he wished to discover it the stories about carrier-pigeons were true — and especially if Cannie's favorite one " would carry a message " from Green- way to the mountain. He accordingly proceeded to coax the pigeon to descend by scattering some crumbs, and grad- ually approach it, as it tipped about, picking them up. Cannie had meanwhile called Falconbridge's attention to her prince's feathers, cardinal flowers, and primroses in a bed near the fence, and the yoimg man bent down and examined them with a pleasure and interest which was rather on ac- count of their mistress than their own, but no less deHghted the smiling girl. As he did so, he did not observe that in turning round ho had dropped from the breast pocket ot his doublet the package which the old man had entrusted to him. George soon seciu'ed the pigeon, and imprisoning it care lolly in his bosom, announced his readiness to depart With many cordial pressures of the hand, and kind words, the two young men then mounted Uieir horses, and were rapidlj (rooeedizig on tba wa j to their respectiTe abodoii 222 FAIKFAX; OK, They parted at a point wher© they enconntered the road leading from Greenway to the Ordinary — George turning to the right, Falcon bridge to the left — with friendly smiles, and a promise on George's part to come soon and see his friend^ at Mynheer Van Doring's. Falconbridge rode on, busy with his own thoughts, and had nearly reached the Ordinary, when suddenly he remem- bered the package entrusted to him by the old man, which he had intended to dehver to George for the hands of the Earl. He put his hand into his doublet — it w^as gone! Greatly annoyed at the circumstance, and wondering how he had lost it, he thought at first of retracing his steps, but gave up the intention, as the setting sun preluded nighty and he would not be able to find it. ProDiising himself to search for it on the succeeding mom^ ing, he continued his way. The search on the next day proved useless. Ten minutes after the departure of the young men frora the mountain cottage, and soon after Cannie and her graml- father had entered the house, the bear Bruin descried the ghttering object, and either attracted by the color, or liking the flavor of the wax, bore it off to a spot in the forest, and amused himself in mouthing and tearing it. Unimportant as it seemed, the circumstance had an influence almcis^l fatal npoi) tJhie deHtioie* of three jr^ersona TEX MASTBB OF GKEBNWAY COUlEn:. 22ft XLV. IV WBICa CAFTAXH WAGNEB BBQITESTS MONSIET73 JAXBOT TO PULL HIS NOSE. JHE spectacle which (greeted Falconbridge as ha entered the doorway of i^^he Ordinary, was one of tnose tableaux wlii-^h are only presented upon extraordinary occasions, and under peculiar oircumstancea In the middle of the apartment, Captain Wagner and Monsieur Jambot were locked in a tender, and fraternal •labrace, upon which Mrs. Butterton looked with tears ol joyous agitation and hysterical deUghi What had caused this fine picture ? Let us explain. Since the evening when Mrs. Butterton yielded to the on- Bet of the valiant Borderer, the bosom of Monsieur Jambol had been consumed by a gloomy internal fire. Hf had speedily discovered the result of that low-toned conversation between the Captain and the widow — and the discovery was gall and wormwood to him. He had flattered himself, with that talent for hope which characterizes his nation, tkat all obstacles to an union with himself would disappear from the mind of Mrs. Butterton — that she regarded Captain Wag- ner with nothing more than ordinary friendship — and that he himself had only to wait, and the prize would be hia OW£L When he now found his rival successful, his own hopes all emshed, the demon of revenge invaded his breast; and h« iet about obeying its dictates. On the evening of the day lo which we have now arrived, he olikd himself carefully from top to toe, and paid minute at- mtion to eTei7 detail of hia oosttune and appearance. Hi« 9AIBFA1; OB, gilk stocMngs were irreproachable; his coat ahnoBt as good as new; his frill immense and snow- whiter his cocked hat resting gallantly on his powdered peruke, the model chapean of a noble chevalier. Indeed Jambot was truly a chevalier of Touraine, of no means, but vastly ancient race,— and had much of the bel air in his carriage when he chose to adopt it — he was a noble still. In this guise he presented himself before Mrs. Buttertong and declared with deep sadness that in the distant land to which he was soon about to proceed, he would always re- member her, and speak of her to his friends with admiration and respect. The fair lady looked surprised at this announcement, and said: " Why, where are you going. Monsieur Jambot ?" " I go to my native Touraine, madame," returned Monsieur Jambot with a touching air, " I am desolated to announce this to madame, but 'tis necessary. I go to the home of my race, to my native land. My worthy aunt has had the poUte- ness to die — I have some rentes — my cousin, the Vicomte de Louvais, will give the poor exile home — or in the most hospitable mansion of my uncle, Monsieur le Chevaher de Sautry, I shall Hnger out, it may be, these few sad years, which, alas 1 will pa^ss themselves so far from madame I" With these words Monsieur Jambot assumed an expres- iion of mingled love and sorrow, which really became him, and had no little effect upon the widow. She had liked Monsieur Jambot — had indeed thought seriously of bestow- ing her hand upon him — a possession which he evidently coveted. He was poor and homeless, but then he was gal- lant and chivakic; he might be romantic and unfit for busi- ness, but then he was devoted and kind-hearted — he would love her and wait upon her; she might do worse than be- come Madame Jambot. These reflections, we say, had more than once passed through the mind of Mrs. Butterton, and BOW when the tride exiU m be often called himself spolM ol tm llASTEB OS* QBEEKWAt COWt m iepartilig— when he addressed her in a strain of such touch" ing regret and affection — the heart of the lady felt all ita old impressions revive, and the graces of Captain Wagner for the moment quite disappeared from her memory. She therefore responded to the touching address of her admirer by looking sadly at him, and saying : " Are you really obhged to go. Monsieur Jambot ?" 'Tis better," replied her sorrowful companion; " 'tis best for the peace of mind of madame'spoor friend. That friend will not make himself too free with those events, he will say those tragic events, which have come to desolate his hfe, to crush his hoj)es, to make the life of him but a mocking dream, a chimera, which disappears I May the friend of the poor chevaher be happy in one who goes to love her much, though not so greatly as another! May he feel in his na- tive home, at the board of De Sautry, or on the battlements of the Chateau de Louvais which makes itself admired by all upon the green banks of the Loire, that he has still a friend — a fair and beautiful friend in the distant land from which he now goes to depart — may he know that one whom he has loved, with a love so profound, so devoted, so ineffable, has not forgotten him, but thinks still of him, and perhaps in the bright days wOl murmur, 'Finally he loved me very much, this poor sad chevaher — ^this exile !' " The head of the fair widow sank. The mournful words impressed her deeply, and revived all her old affection. There was more than one emotion in her heart as she gazed at him now, sadly and kindly. There was pity, regard, that •ympathy which the female bosom never fails to conceive lor the man who loves with real devotion — there was more. Monsieur Jambot was thus, after all, a nobleman ! His family were ChevaUers and Viscounts ! He was going back to the battlements of castles and chateaus, the possessions of his uncles and cousins! As Madame Jambot, she would have sat at the right hand of the noble De Sautry, and Dc Lcuvais- -beau a member of that elevated and refined sooid- 926 FAIRFAX; OB, — ^this was lost to her! Such reflections were passing through the mind of the lady, and they were not without their effect upon her. She had abundant reason to know that all that Monsieur Jambot said was true — and her head drooped as she gazed at him. It is no mor e than justice to add, however, that pity and grief at parting with an old friend were the chief causes of her sadness. The tone ol her companion was hopeless and resigned — he was yielding like an honest chevalier to a more favored rival,— without complaint, with the air of a gentleman who is unfortunate and retii'es. Could she suffer him to depart without assur- ing him of her lasting affection ? These reflections had so much influence upon her, that the fair Mrs. Butterton begged Monsieur Jambot to come and sit beside her. He obeyed with a resigned and touch- ing air, which deepened the impression produced by his words. The lady then proceeded to reply to his sad address. Gracefully evading the allusion to "another," she professed for Monsieur Jambot a lasting and most affectionate regard He had proved himself, she said, a true friend, on very many occasions — she had found from many circumstances, that he was as reliable and devoted in his regard, as he was kindly and sincere in his feelings, and she could not give him up — she could not bid him farewell — ^he must not — must not — ^go! With these words, the last of which were uttered in a broken and agitated voice, the fair widow turned her head away, placed her handkerchief to her eyes, and uttered a sob. The sound seemed to act like an electric shock upon Mon- sieur Jambot He uttered a deep groan — cried, "Oh heaven I She weeps I" — and falling upon his knees, caught her other hand in his own, ^ind pressed it ardently to his lips. It was just at this moment that a heavy step resounded bebin»at we shake hands, Mon cher Capitame and friend — thai we embrace!" As he spoke the worthy Jambot extended his arms, and the two bloody foes were locked in a fraternal embiaoe. The chin of Captain Wagner reposed affectionately beMveeu the shoulders of his friend; the countenance of Monsieui Jambot appeared above the arm of the other; and to make the whole complete, the fair lady who had caused all the fommotion, stood by cryiug^ — ^but laughing too, and r(ijoi# ing at the result. YAZBfAX; OB, It was then that Falconbridge entered, and stood fiCflot with astonishinent; but all was soon explained to him. " The fact is, my dear Falconbridge, your friend Wagnfi^' is a fool," said the Captain; "but when a man grows jealous he sees things double, or I'm a dandy ! I remember hearing about a black fellow who knocked up a courtship with some king's daughter or other, by his nigger-witchcraft, and ran off with her * — after which he got jealous without any rea- son, and choked her to death with a bolster. Falcon- bridge," said the Captain, with affecting solemnity of ao» eent-, "beware of ;ealousy !" * Tkda somewhAi free descriptiou of the noble Moor al ^&L»ktepmrB, and Mr nmm ot influencing Desdemona, wm uttered in the baunUi^ of AIhe wkitcr, by f MHh|r> wka ad m yfeU a* IM) nomM tw^lvi^> im 231 XLV. THE LAMIA. HE passion of Lord Fairfax for Sliss Argal ripen- ed rapidly, and soon attained its full strength. It was one of those fatal infatnatious wLieh par- alyze the reason, and lead captive the wills ol the strcngest and most resolute men. From that evening when George encountered him in the Massinutton, and when they met Miss Argal and Falcon- bridge on the prairie, the Earl had not ceased to think oi her with a singular emotion. There was something in this young lady which no one could describe — an impalpable and wondrous fascination — ^which, when it had once been felt, was an influence on the lif3 not heed it. Scnted in his chamber, his shoulders bending forward, his face pale, his eyes blazing at times with a menacing fire, he did not move or utter a word. The events of the last few days had almost paralyzed him. He seenied to be growing old. His face had lost all its bloom and freshness ; his bearing aU its buoyant grace and pnde; he stooped like an octogenarian, who approaches the end of human life^ after much toil and suffering and grief. The mood of the young man's mind was piteotis. Bags and despair, love and hatred, a thousand warring and dis- cordant passions, hold riotous carnival in the heaving bosom, and tore him with their burning talons. He knew all now. He had become aware of Miss Argal's intentions with regard to the Earl; and though the young ladj had not distinctly broken with him, he foresaw that she had resolved to do so, and would dismiss him on the first favorable opportunity. Thus, then, would end his wild and deHcious dream. The pas^sionate love, which permeated hia very Kfe-blood, would be swallowed up in this gulf of des- pair. He would be thrown off like a useless garment, whose gloss has departed— which no longer excites any emotioo 286 lAlKFAX; OK, but contempt The Countess of Fairfax, if they eTor met again, would smile or sneer at their past relations, and greet him with an air of condescensioiL or indifference. The Earl would not insult him, perhaps — he would treat him with great politeness ; a Xoi r .er friend of his Countesi TTonld be entitled to so mucn attention; and he would b« bowed out grandly from their presence, he, the siily young adventurer, who had presumed to be the rival of his bet- ters I The thought flushed the pale cheek, and brought a threaten- ing flash to the eyes. He rose from his seat, and looked around him with a fiery glance. Where was ho ? Why was he inactive ? Was he to sit dov/n and groan, and submit to his fate — or go and dare the worst, and place everything upon a comprehensible footing? Yes, he would go ! He v/ould see her for the last tima He would know, beyond all doubt, what she intended, what he might expect. He would endure no longer this horrible state of doubt — all should be plain. Falconbridge acted quickly. He went and ordered his horse — ^passed through the main apartment without speak- ing to any one, — and was soon in the so^ddlo. The sky began to grow darker, the distant thunder to matter; and one or two vivid flashes of lightning darted across the zenith, re- vealing the lurid depths more plainly. Falconbridge paid no attention to these evidences of the approaching storm. He struck the spur into his horse's sides; and se{. forward at a wild pace, towards Mr. Argal's. He soon reached the place, and the fiery hght in his eyes deepened and grew more menacing at the sight which greet- ed him at the door. Lord Fairfax's horse stood there — indeed the Earl had spent the entire afternoon with Miss Argal, her lather being again una\ oidably absent, and the former ex- cuse of her lonehness having proved successful in retaining his lordship. Falconbridge set his teeth together like a vioei -lismoimtp THE KASTEB OF GBEENWAT COXJBT. 887 ed, and went and knocked at the door. It was opened by a ■ervant, who did not move aside for the young gentleman, " Miss Argal?" he said, making a step in advance. Mistress had told her to say, replied the servant, if Mr. Falconbridge came, that she was engaged and must b« excused for not seeing him. That was all. The words sounded Hke a death-knell in the young man's ears. He simply bowed his head and de- parted. He almost staggered as he walked. Has brain was turning round. He mounted his horsa again, and set forth on his return. Then he would not even have an opportunity of arriving at a distinct understanding 1 What gihe had done once she would do again. He was to be Bimply dismissed contemptuously, as if unworthy of atten- tion, — as a common individual, whose society was disagree- able. Meanwhile, Lord Fairfax was sitting by the side of the young lady, laughing, it might be, at the disappointment of his rival, and basking in the love-light of her fascinating eyes, and those smiles which now shone for him alone. The thought maddened the young man almost. He looked over his shoulder at the illuminated window, through which he descried the shadows of the young lady and the Earl, close beside each other. With a muttered imprecation, and clenched hands, the young man struck his horse with the spur, and galloped forward. But he did not proceed far. Just as the house began to disappear in the trees, he reined In his animal and waited — his resolution was taken. He did not wait long. Lord Fairfax, as we have said, had Bpent many hours with Miss Argal, and now desii-ed to reach his home before the outburst of the storm. He ac- cordingly bade the young lady farewell. Falconbridge saw the two forms in the brightly illuminated doorway, and mounting his horse, set forward rapidly toward Greenway. The Earl passed within five paces of Falconbridge, but the darknojss, which had descended quickly, completely hid kha motionless horse and his rider. It was no part of tba S88 yonDg man's design to force an explanation of the charaoM which he intended from the Earl, within sight or hearing of Miss Argal. He accordingly permitted the tall horseman to pass him at full gallop; and then giving rein to Sir John, he followed. The Earl heard the quick trampling behind him, and won- dered at it. The hour and the place were not calculated to remove his suspicions of the pursuer — but he continued his way without noticing the circumstance. The hoof-strokes rapidly approached — ^he heard the quick breathing of the animal behind him — then, before he could gpeak, a violent hand was laid on his bridle- and the horse, suddenly ai-rested, reared erect almost, quivering with terror. At the same moment a vivid flash of lightning revealed Falconbridge. " Sir ! Mr. Falconbridge exclaimed the Earl, in a voice of utter astonishment and no less indignation, "pray, what is the meaning of this very extraordinary proceeding ?" ** I will inform your lordship before our interview ends," returned Falconbridge, in a deep, hollow voice, which his Buffering had rendered almost unrecognizable. "Are you mad, sir?** said the Earl, from the darkness ; release my bridle!" " Willingly," was the cold reply; "you are no coward, and will not escape me !" "Escape! coward 1 You shall answer for those words, ■irl" " I am ready to do so." "In the darkness, n(4 doubt," returned the Earl, full ol contempt and aroused anger, "'tis the favorite tfoak of assassins and lunatics." The words were scarcely uttered when Falconbridge wad heard leaping from his horse Then a quick sound followed —the sound of steel striking against flint — and almost im* Wdmtely a pile of drj leaves axid prairie was blazing THE MASTEB OF GKEENWAl JOUKR 280 aloft, illuminatiiig the forest and the threatening figarei with its brilliant flame. " Now/* said Faiconbridge, in the same hollow voice, " ii your lordship is not afraid, you may dismount and listen to my questions." The word " afraid'* acted like magic on Lord Fairfax. He threw himself from the saddle, and gazing at his companion with mingled astonishment and anger, confronted him in the full blaze of the fire. There was something strange and tragic in the scene as the two men stood thus. The ruddy hght streamed foil ui3on them, and they akeady had their hands upon their Bwords. " Speak, sir,** said the Earl, controUing his anger ; "speak; and explain this astonishing encounter.** "I will do so,** said Faiconbridge, " and first I will pro* pound a question to you, my lord. Have you visited Misa Argal to-day?** "Yes, sir.*' "Were you not there when I came to the door and asked for the young lady?*' "Yes, sir.'* "Are you aware that the young lady is plighted to me?" " PHghted, sir I No ! She is not !" " Dqcs vour lordship design giving me the He ?" And the young man advanced a step, half drawing his sword. " Mr. Faiconbridge," said the Earl, without moving, " ar^ you a lunatic? I design nothing, sir, — I reply to youi question. I say that MissArgal^as not phghted to yew, because she assured me that she was not." " She assured you !" "Yes, sir." "My lord, I do not believe you." The Earl's face flushed crimson. '*That is a deliberate insult!" 240 FAIBFAX; OB. *• As such I receive :t, and will make yon answer lor it| sir, at the point of the sword !" " Good ! good !" said Falconbridge, with gloomy ple&aure, " now your lordship is talking like a man. I thought, ai you had tricked an honest gentleman — supplanted him by craft and cunning in the heart of the only woman he evei loved — taken advantage of your rank and wealth to wile away the affections of a lady plighted to another — thought, as you had done aU this, my lord, pretending aU the time that you were the best friend I had, — that you would now discover some means of evading my vengeance — of refusing me reparation at the sword's point! I comphment your lordship — ^you are not frightened at the sight of cold steel at least — you are aroused by my rudeness and my insults i That is weU, sir I Let us end, then, aU our differences ai once, and on this spot — with no witnesses, no preliminaries, without ceremony 1" And drawing his sword, Falconbridge advanced upon the Earl, whose weapon was also in his hand. But it was not raised. The momentary madness of An- ger had disappeared from the mind of Lord Fairfax — he seriously asked himself if he was not dealing with a mad- man. The additional consideration immediately presented itself, that a combat at such a time and place, without wit- nesses, would be productive of the most serious results to the survivor. No evidence that the contest was fair and honorable would exist. The simple fact would be that a man was killed; and there were plenty of persons ready to utter the word murder. If he killed the yoang man in that lonely spot, could he produce any evidence of the provoca- tion which had led to the act ? Would not many of the miserable newsmongers of the region say tnat jealousy and rivalry had made him waylay his adversary? As these thoughts passed rapidly through the brain of the Earl, he drew back coldly, and sheathed his weapon- Mr. Falconbridge," he said, i^thout moving, as ilia fa- TBI UAJSTER OF GREENWAT OOITBT. 241 rioTifl yotmg m«-n advanced straight on him, " if you Tfish tc kill me, do so. I will not even trust my sword in my hand. You may not be aware of the fact, but I am, sir, that th« survivor in this combat will be regarded as a murderer. But understand me, sir, I do not refuse your clmUenge— yon have outraged and insulted me in a manner which no gen- tleman can bear, and by heavens! you shall answer it! Go home, and do aU thihgs decently and in order. Procure your second, and write me a formal communication. Do not fear, sir I You have made me as desirous of this encounter as yourself, and I am willing, nay, I insist upon it — ^my blood or your own must flow, sir V With which words the Earl dehberately mounted his horse, and gravely saluting his adversary, continued his road toward Green way. Falconbridge gazed after him for a few moments without moving. The excess of anger in his bosom had somewhat moderated, as he hstened to the collected voice of the Earl — but it soon returned in fuU force again. He had thought of Miss Argal and the two shadows on the wall. With lips firmly compressed, and a more fatal determination in his eye than before, he leaped into the saddle, and just as the storm began to roar around him, and extinguish the fire, darted forward in the direction of the Ordinary " The net is broken 1" he muttered, with a bitter sneer, through his close-set teeth^ *^but the prey has not eapedr 13 m tilBFAX; Ctt, ' XLvn. PEELIMINABIES. DUEL!" said Captain Wagner, when upoa the following morning Falconbridge related to him the events of the preceding night — " a duel 1 and about that woman ! By the snout of thej old he-dragon ! Falconbridge, both you and Fairfax are a bigger pair of lunatics than I took you for." " So let it be," said Falconbridge, pale and coUbcted as be- fore, " and I do not conceal from you — cannaSi — that Miss Argal is connected with the matter." " Connected with it I Falconbridge, don't treat me like an idiot," said the Captain, gloomily, " I am sane in mind, and see somewhat further than my nose." The young man made no reply. " I knew it was coming in some form or other — this mis-* ery, and wretchedness and blood!" continued the Captain in a sombre tone, " I smelt it in the air — this bloody odor — or the devil take it!" " You were right in your warning," muttered the young man, with unutterable despair in his altered voice 1 " Would that I had taken your advice." About the nature of panthers, eh?" said Wagner, as grimly as before; well, I wish you had-" " It would have been well for me." " But you did not believe me/* ftaid the Captain, frowning painfully. And now see, Falconbridge, how things have turned out You doubted the miserable old bear who growled at the pretty, variegated auim}^ witli her ahining »H» MASTBB OF fJBEEKWAY OOXTBT. 248 ooat, her brilliant eyes, her caressea and smiles, and bright glajxoesi You were ahnost ready to strike your sword hilt into the mouth that discoursed on the subject. And now, what has happened ? You have felt the sharp claws which I told you of 1 You have rolled into the mortal hugl The long, glittering teeth which mangled Charles Austin and left him in a pool of blood are gnawing you — ^you are her prey!'' A groan answered the words. It was irrepressible. " Yes, yes," murmured the young man with cruel agony " yes, yes, that's aU true — I am lost I" " Not that either ! no, you're not, by the snout ci the dragon 1" returned the soldier; "things are not that bad at least. Don't cry for spilt mUk — look the thing in the face. Let me speak like a doctor, comrade, and probe your wound, though you shudder and cry out. I mean well — do you love that woman still ?" " I know not," was the low reply. " Then you do love her stilL And now what do you de- wgnr "Nothing." " That means nothing. Are you going to return to her, Palconbridge ? Speak, and say if you a^:e goitig back to crouch at her feet, to be whipped and spit on, and spurned like a dog I Are you going to cry and bewail, and beg her to love you, and make yourself her slave, her menial ! Tell sne this. Speak frankly, Falconbridge — are you going to return ? If so, though I love you as I would love my own boy comrade. 111 wash my hands clear of the busiuess." " Rest easy," was the reply, in the same low voice, " I shall never see her again — except to get from her the ring which was my mother's." A contraction of the pale brow and quivering Hp betrayed the agony of the speaker, and he was silent Then he added, in a voice which was almost inaudible, "My mother gave me that ring on her death-bed, with 244 VAIBFAX; OB) her blessing. She cried as she placed it on my finger, and I never removed it until the morning when — I was mad, com- panion 1 Don't mind me — ^you see — I am thinking — of my mother." He was silent again. The words had forced their way by violence as it were, through the clenched teeth, and the pale lips. The eyes of the young man were dry and fixed — there neve no tears in them. " Falconbridge," said Captain Wagner, with frowning brows, " stop that talk, or you'll make me cry like a baby I To think of all this — of the way you have been tricked — ol your honesty and true manliness — by the horns of the dev- il 1 it makes me flush — my nerves twitch 1 Would this woman were a man V Indeed a flash of something like fiery rage darted from the eyes of the soldier, and his hand stole down to the hilt ol his weapon. Then, as he looked into the countenance of his sompanion, this flash disappeared ; he bent down murmur- ing : and the old wistful, almost tender expression returned. " Falconbridge," he said, " my miserable old heart is bleed- ing for you, as I think of what may happen in the next twenty-four hours. Whatever may be the result of that •ombat you announce as coming, it must be horrible." " So let it be." There's misery and death in the matter — ^the blood of one or both of ycu." " Doubtless," was the cold rep*f of the young man, who tlud completely mastered his emotion, and was calm a^ain- "Fairfax is an admirable swordsman ; I have played with feim ; and you, do you use the short-sword?" ^-Trxdifferent well" rhat is ^-^11— at least there will be a fair and above- board fight — no unequal combat. But I know not whethel it is not unfortunate after all — if I do, may I be scalped 1" " What do you mean, Captain?" said Falconbridge. I meAxi pkiiilj thia — ^that iu case you were i^orant ol THB MASTEB OF GBEENWA7 00X7BX. 24A * the use of the smaH-sword, or completely out of practice, th# affair could not take place — it might easily be arranged — as I hope it will be yet. Without a swordsman for his oppo- nent, the Earl would retire — and you would necessarily do likewise.*' " Never I There would remain the pistol I" was the quick reply, between the close- set teeth. **' A villainous weapon 1 No 1 If there's a combat it shall be with short-swords. That is fair and honorable — and now what rxe you going to do, Falconbridge ?" " I shall set out at once to find some gentleman of the neighborhood, who'll act as my second." " Hum 1 then you know some ?" " One or two very slightly, but they cannot refuse me." " Hum ! hum 1" repeated the Captain, still gloomy and thoughtful, but gazing at his companion from time to time with the strange, wistful glance which we have noticed, " and is there no possible way of accommodating this difference ?" " None on earth. If there is no regular duel, there will be a combat wherever we meet — the blood of myself or Lord Fairfax must flow 1" " Misery I misery 1" muttered the soldier; " a wretched buo- hiess in every way. And pray, why don't you ask me to second you, Falconbridge ?" " Because," said the young man, rewarding the speaker with one of his proud glances, full of thanks and feeling, " because you live with Lord Fairfax, and are naturally his lecond in the matter." •* Nothing of the sort," returned Wagner, coolly; " you're my friend as much as Fairfax, and by the dragon's snout, I'll not have you go looking for a friend, when his lordship can select one out of a hundred. Wait here, companion. I'll return in an hour. Do you promise ?" " You say *an hour V " '^Tes." I will wait so long. Captain — ^bat sacrifice nothing for FAIRFAX; om, i^e- haTe no jar with his lordship. I am not worthjr el such friendship, or of such a sacrifice of feeling. I soon pass. See the sun there, comrade! He is mounting the nkj — well, it is probable that I'll not see his setting. So be it. 1 am tired of my life, and death cannot come too quick- ly. In asi hour I" And with these gloomy words, which affected the rough Borderer strangely, the young man entered the buildija/y pmM retired to his ohamb^. na MASTXB OF 0BEENWA7 COUBT» XLTIIL THE DERANGEMENT. HE Captain set out at a thundering gallop, asid soon reached Greenway Court. Lord Fairfai met him at the door. " Ah ! welcome Captain Wagner," he said, speaking in his habitual tone of calmness, mingled with gloom ; " I was just on the point of sending? for you — to the Ordinar}% where you have been, I think.'* " Tes, mv lord. I spent the night thera*^ " And you saw Mr. Falconbridge "Yes, my lord This morning." •*Did he speak of the even t^j which occurred last evening " As soon as I descended. I have come as quickly as po» Bible discuss in turn with your lordship, the arrange^ ment of the whole affair." The Earl inclined his head gravely, and pointed to a seat, which the Captain assumed. " Speak, Captain Wagner/' he said, calmly and courteous- "I will do so, my lord," returned the Borderer, "and frankly. It is necessary, in this miserable business between yourself and Falconbridge, that I should act as the friend ol your opponeiA. I like candor, and honesty — I prefer talk- ing it out plainly. I am attached to you, my lord, I am your guest, and owe much to you — but I Ioyc this young man as if he was my own blood- -my son ; and he's a strangei here. Tour lordship can find a friend who will be prond lo Ml for yoa — uxj one of a dozen iii the country n«iur VAIBFAX; OB, hand — ^while Palconbridge is almost alone in this land* 1 announce this in advance, that no misunderstanding may take place — and now, my lord, I await your pleasure." " Thanks, Captain Wagner," said the Earl, with a low bow, **it is pleasure indeed which I have experienced as you spoke. I thank you, sir, for this new proof of your confi* dence and esteem ; you rate me as I wish, sir, as a gentle^ inan and an honest man. I not only acquiesce in your pro- posal to act for Mr. Falconbridge, and acquit you of all want of friendship in so doing toward myself — I was prepared to insist upon this very course. That we understand and treat each other with this confidence, is another proof of that es- teem which I think we feel mutually, sir. Thanks, Captain Wagner." And the Earl inclined again. "Now to business," he continued; "I have already dis- patched a request to Colonel Carter that he will wait on me here, and I think he will soon come. Do you bear any communication from Mr. Falconbridge ?" " No, my lord, I am not regularly in the position of his second yet, and have avoided becoming such, in order that I might act as the mutual friend of both — Abound e2K3lusively to neither." " As the friend of both?" " Yes, my lord — and you know that such is the real truth. As a friend then, iu no wise connected with either, I ask, is no arrangement possible without bloodshed?" "None, none at all," returned the Earl, with gloomy calm- ness; "I see no possibility of such a thing. Tou have doubtless heard the particulars of the encounter in the wood last night, and may easily understand that any explanation is impossible. Let me speak more plainly, and place the whole in a clear light. I have paid my addresses to Misa Argal in due form, and I think she is willing to become the Countess of Fairfax. Let us not speak further of this pri- v»t6 matter, which I mention only to elucidate the reeti THE MASTER OF QREENWAY COURT. 249 WeD, sir, I often saw Mr. Falconbridge at Mr. Argal's^ and his attention to the young lady appeared somewhat particular. I accordingly demanded of her the exact char- acter of these attentions, and she assured me that they wer* merely those of a friend. "Was there any contract, definite or implied, between herself and Mr. Falconbridge ? I asked. None whatever, was the reply. Why do you frown and SDeer so Captain, with your lip T " I beg your lordship's pardon — 'tis a deplorable habit I have acquired. Pray proceed." " The rest may be related briefly. Once assured that Mr. Falconbridge had no claims on Miss Argal, and believing that he regarded her in the light of a familiar friend only, I paid her my addresses in a more marked manner. She re* ceived them in a manner which induced me to hope that my attentions were agreeable, and my visits became, according- ly, more frequent. Yesterday I spent the afternoon with the young lady. Mr. Falconbridge called, and, to my great surprise, was mformed that Miss Argal was engaged, and could not see him. She explained the circumstance by saying that he had grown so moody and disagreeable of late that she must really endeavor to break off her indmacy with him — ^he made her melancholy. So the subject was forgot- ten, and I thought no more of the younaf f^entleman until he waylaid me in the wood, and gave me the lie dii-ect." The Earl flushed as he spoke ; but controlled his emotion and added: " That is all, sir. I avoided a conflict then and there by promising to meet Mr. Falconbridge at another and more favorable time. You must see, Captain W^agner, that any overtures from myself are utterly impossible." The soldier knit his brows and looked more gloomy thaa ever. " It's a deadly looking mixture, or I*m a dandy I" he mut- tered, " and unless Falconbridge will move in the matt«^ •U'b oyer/' 250 FAJHFAX; OB, **What do yon say, Captain?" Nothing much, my lord. I will go and bee Paloonbridg€^ and rbjnrn as soon as possible, either bearing you the terms of an arrangement of the affair, or delivering his car- tel" " That is my duty," returned the Earl. " Mr. Falcon- bridge will thus have choice of weapons, time and place." " There will be no trouble about that, my lord ; now 111 go and see what I can do." With these words the soldier mounted his horse, and re- turned rapidly to the Ordinary. All his attempts to move the young man were utterly in vain — the arguments of the Borderer fell back, so to speak, from his iron resolution, like waves from an ocean rock. At the end of an hour there was nothing remaining but the question of time, place and weapons. The Captain ret "rned, and found Colonel Carter at Greenw y, and with this gentleman he now discussed, formally, as the second of Falconbridge, the terms of the combat. It was a?Tanged that it should take place on the same evei:- ing at a spot within the Fort Mountain, which was secluded and favorabls for the purpose, and then the Captain re- turned to the Ordinary. He had never oeen more gloomy. THJB MAfiTSB OF QBESNWAT OOUBX. 25i XLEL THE OOUBJlT. S the hour which had been fixed for the combal drew near, the four men entered the narrow defile of the Fort Mountain, and approached the secluded spot which had been selected. They dismounted, tied their horses to the hanging boughs, ftnd advanced slowly to the arena. Captain Wagner and his principal returned the low sa- lute of Lord Fairfax, and his fnend, with one equally cour- teous, and then the seconds approached each other, and con- versed for some moments in a low tone, which was inaudible to their companions. The preliminaries were soon arranged, and the swords were produced and measuredL They tallied exactly in length, and were of the same weight and temper. A nod from the Captain testified to his satisfaction. At a sign from the seconds, the Earl and Falconbridge then removed their coats and waistcoats, and advanced to a spot indicated. They halted, saluted each other, and re* oeived the weapons from the hands of Captain Washier and Colonel Carter. "The terms of the combat are as follows, gentlemen, ** said the Captain. " You shall engage, and so proceed for as loug a time as seems proper. But in no case shall any personal collision of bodies take place ; there shall be no clutching, and no resort to other weapons than the short- Bword. Should either weapon break, or the fodt of either party slip, or stumble, the engagement shall terminate for the timeb I will give the signal by raising my hand.** 262 FAIRFAX; OR, At the appointed signal, the two men advanced upon each other, and the weapons clashed together, the light ol tiie sinking sun darting vividly from their bui^nished sur- ^Aces. Both were excelleLi swordsmen, and soon felt that all iheir science would be necessary. The combat was thus guarded at first, and consisted of a series of fencing lujiges, rather than rapid thrusts, as though each were feeling the wrist of his adversary. Falconbridge was the more active and supple of the two — -the Earl stronger and heavier in his fence. Still, as the combat grew more excited, neither had gained any advantage — and the blood of 1: >th gradually grew heated. The Earl glared at his enemy, and a spot in each cheek began to glow; on his forehead the huge veins becs.me black. Falconbridge was pale, but the fire in his eyes contradicted his apparent calmness : his lips were set together like iron. Despite his most powerful exertions the Earl could not drive the young man back an inch ; and his most deadly lunges were regularly parried. The old swordsman grew fiery and dangerous. His cheeks glowed as if from the light of a conflagration — he braced his gaunt frame until it resembled a bundle of steel springs, and advanced step by step upon Falconbridge. He did not yield or give ground — ^the points of the weapons played in the very faces of the combatants — the hilts were almost wrapped around each other. Then, in spite of the exclamations and protests of the seconds, who hastened quickly toward them, a desperate, hand to hand, stabbing-match, rather than sword-play, com- menced. Both the Earl and Falconbridge received slight wounds — but the sight of blood only enraged them morf bitterly. In another moment each would have moi-tally wound- ed his adversary, and so brought the combat to an end, when suddenly the two men were dragged Tiolently Mondei^ THE MASTER OF GREENWAY OOXTBT. 268 and the Wizard of the Massinutton interposed his ta\l form, shuddering with strange emotion, between the ajtversarie* The respective seconds of the combatants had rushed for«< ward, crying, "Gentlemen I gentlemen! this must cease I no poniard fight 1" — ^but the towering resident of the Fort Mountain had forestalled them. He had seen the party when they entered the gorge of the valley, and divining their intention, hastened quickly toward them. He had arrived in time, and now stood between the hot swords- men, his form towering high above even that of the Earl — his face, generally so pale, flushed with tragic emotion. The Earl gazed at him angrily, and raised his head haughtily as their eyes encountered. "Pray, what is the meaning of this interruption, sir?" he said. "Are you aware that you peril your life by this pro- ceeding I" " Yes, my lord," said the wizard, still agitated in every muscle of his tall, nervous frame by the singular tremor we have noticed, " Your weapon was within an ace of pene- trating my breast; and Mr. Ealconbridge also nearly struck me. But that is little !" " Your meaning, sir 1 Stand back 1" " I will not 1 You may kill me, if the act will be pro- ductive of satisfaction to your lordship; but you shall not even do that until you hear what I came to say to you." There was something so resolute and gloomy in the voice of the old man, and his eyes burned with such significance beneath his bushy white brows, that the Earl unconsciously dropped the point of his sword, and was silent. "Your proceeding is extraordinary, very extraordinary, eir," he replied, coldly, "but I respect your age, and iay no more. I only request that you will communicate to me speedily what you design to inform me of — I know not what it is — then we will proceed 1" " It is necessary," returned the vizard, that jour lord* ■hip abould liaten to it in priTate.'* 254 FAIRFAX; OB, Impossible, sir !" the Earl replied, impatiently shaking his h iad: "I cannot, and will not leave this spot nntil thif matter is terminated !" " You must !" was the resolute answer. " Tes, my lord, I tell you, and I know what I say — teU you that you must hear me speak, and privately. This combat shall not con- tinue, if it becomes necessary for me to interpose my own body between your swords." "You speak in riddles, sir!*' exclaimed the Earl; "stand back 1" "Stiilie, then, gentlemen," replied the wizard, calmly folding his arms, and not moving from the spot which he occupied between the combatants; "if you wish to shed blood, shed my own to commence with. I swear to you that nothing shall move me but the death-blow!" And he confronted the Earl with a majesty and determin- ation in eye, lip, and bearing, which produced an eflfect even on his angry opponent. "Well, have your wish, sir !" said Lord Fairfax, frowning, "witii the permission of Captain Wagner, I will retire for a moment, to the distance of ten paces — ^is it permitted, sir ?" "It is permitted, my lord," said the Captain. "Well, let us make haste, sir," said the Earl: and sheath- ing his sword, he followed his companion, with quick steps. They had proceeded about ten paces, and the wizard had commenced speaking in a low, guarded tone, when the Earl was observed to start violently. As he did so, his head turned quickly, and he fixed upon Falconbridge one of those glances of lightning, whi-^^.h, on extraordinary occasions^ made his eyes resemble flaming brands. His face wa« deadly pale, and the contracted lips revealed his white teeth Bet Hke a vice together. He no longer opposed the will ol his companion, evidently — they walked a hundred yards, talking in a low, agitated manner, and finally disappeared behind a huge mass of rock, covered with moss and ever* ipraeiui^ which rose on the declivity of ike mountaiiL THE MASTEB OF GREENWAT OOUBT. 25S The three gentlemen who had been left by themselves in this unceremonious manner, waited patiently for a quarter of an hour. Then they began to lock curiously toward the rocky screen. Another quarter of an hour passed slowly away, and Colonel Carter, at the request of Captain Wag- ner, had just gone to summon the Earl, when the two men were seen returning. An extraordinary change had taken place in the bearing and appearance of Lord Fairfax. l^Vlien he left the party, he had carried his head proudly erect, his eyes v/ere flash- ing with anger, and the aroused thirst for blood — he had resembled a warhorse, snuffing the odor of battle, amd champing at the /)it which restrains him. Now, all this nad disappeared. His shoulders were drooping — his cheeks were pale: his eyes, of late so fiery, were full of wistful light; and he gazed upon bis companions with an expression of absent wonder which impressed them with the most vivid astonishment. Especially did they experience a sentiment amounting to stupefaction, almost, when they saw the Earl glance toward Falconbridge. In that glance there was no longer any enmity, any ang^er — all had vanished. It was a gaze almost tender in its character ; and plainly an uncon- scious one to the Earl. The ^'^oimg man wondered at it, but replied only by a look haughtier than before, and calmly tested the metal of his weapon by pressing the point upon his boot. Lord Fairfax soon recovered fi'om his fit of absence, how- ever, and by a great effort, summoned his habitual calm- ness. He approached Captain Wagner, and Falconbridge, and bowing with grave courtesy, said : This affair cannot proceed, gentlemen, and the singular circumstances accompanying the fact, is the entu-e silence which I am compelled to observe at present upon the char- acter of the consiileratioiiiii vvliich render a further oombAt impossible/' FAIRFAX; ^R, Falconbridge flushed, and grasped his sword in a menao^ ing manner. " I am aware/' continued the Earl, in the same cahn yoioe, " that my words are enigmas, but I cannot prevent that. ] will make any apology, or follow any course which Mr% Falconbridge may see fit to demand.*' The seconds and Falconbridge greeted these words with incredulous wonder; but the Earl did not seem to observe it, and added : " 1 propose, in all that relates to an affair in which Mr, Falconbridge and myself hold the position of rival claim- ants, to withdraw my pretensions, and retire from the field — his interests ahaU no longer suffer from my presence — and I am prepared to make him any apology which he requires, for anything in which he may have thought himsell wronged, by any act of my own." The words were uttered as calmly and coldly as before, in spite of a faint tinge which rose slowly to the cheek, and having finished them, the Earl bowed low and was silent. The seconds and Falconbridge had listened with an amaze- ment greater tha^n before; but this expression in the eyes of Wagner was succeeded by another of unmistakable pleasure. As the Earl ended his address, he bow^d low and repUed : " As the friend of Mr. Falconbridge, I accept yoor lord- ship's proposal. We shall waive all further explanations or discussions, resting content with the general disclaimer, and olTer which has been made. You will permit me, my lord, to say on the part of Mr. Falconbridge, whom I represent, that this proposition is no less characteristic of your lord- ship's magnanimity, than of your fearless disregard of ap- pearances. And so, gentlemen, the matter's at an end — ^th^ fight's over — if it's not, I'm a crop-eared iandyl" With this joyous outburst, the Captain twirled his moas- taohe violently, and picking up the coats of the combatants, handed them to thoae gentlemen^ with an air fnll of graoi THE MASTER OF GUEEKWAY COURT. 257 and politeness. With a clouded, and gloomy brow, Falcon- bridge yielded to his representative, and the whole party were soon again in the saddle, on their way back to the Lowland. The wizard was slowly retrricing his steps up the moun- tain. mm FALCONBRIDOK BSOOYEBED HIS MOTEEfi 8 ROMk. N the day after the events which have just beea narrated, Falconbridge set ont from the Ordin ary to visit Miss Argal for the last time. Wtj know the design of his visit. AH was over — there wna no longt^r ony hope — the drama ivas i)1ayed —he had falb.n in the contest: but he must look upon her face once more for a moment; he must recover the plain gold ring which had belonged tc hie mother, and remained in the posse^jsion of the young lady. As he thuB drew near t-o the secluded dwelling in which b« had spent so many happy hours, a painful and cruel shadow swept across the broad bt ow of the young man. His shoul- ders drooped; his lip quivered; and the heavy-looking eyes were half veiled by the long lashes which almost reposed upon the pallid cheeks, Falconbridge was passing through that baptism of silent agony which sprickles the hair 04 youth with gray. As if to mock him, the face of nature was serene and be- nignant. The chill winds had passed away — and that sea- son which is called the " Indian Summer had arrived. The landscape was still, and bathed in imperceptible floods of vapor — every outline was rounded, every angle had disap- peared — the soft mellow haze rested like a veil of gauze on the distant mountains, the prairie and the forest. A dreamy and mild influence seemed to pervade the whole scene, and the genius of silence and repose was enthroned, where lately the fresh breezes of October careered onward^ rart* Uiig the dry leavM. Tiiii: MABTEB OF aBEENWAY COURT- 269 But the young man scaorcely observed the change. Eii own thoughts made the world in which he moved. An irresistible sadness invaded, and took possession of him; and he went along, unconscious of the landscape around hiia, dead to all but his own sombre meditations. When Sir John stopped at the door, now so well known find familiar, his master looked up with a vagTie, absent wonder. Then slowly dismounting, he affixed his bridle to a bough, and approached. He knocked at the door — ^no one answered. But hearing the sound of voices in the apartment to the right, which was used as a sitting-room, he turned the knob, and en* tered. The sight which greeted him sent the blood violently to his heart, and an irresistible shudder ran through his frame. He leaned against the frame-work of the door for support, as though his limbs were about to fail him. In the middle of the apartment Mr. Axgal was holding, with a vigorous grasp, both wrists of his daughter, and en- deavoring to soothe her. It was the appearance of the young lady, however, which made Falconbridge recoil, shuddering. She was scarcely recognizable. Her di-esa was in rude disorder — her black hair was hanging down on her naked shoulders in tangled masses, and the fiery dark eyes which burned beneath her knit brows, were filled with &Q expression of rage and wildness which was teiTible. The small pearly teeth had bit the writhing lip imtil the blood flowed — and in every muscle of her body, as in her face, the visitor discerned an awful distortion. It was evidently as much as Mr. Argal could do to hold her. The nervous force which she displayed was wonder- ful. The soft round ;ir.uo .soemed endowed with the strength of a giant — and in spite ui his most powerful exertions, the writhing form almost escaped from her father's grasp. " I tell you r' she cried hoarsely, and in a voice which thi Xoaxu< man did not reoognize as her own; I tell you I saw m FAIKFAX; OB, him last night 1 He was lying in his bloodl His ^fm called to me— I will go to him !" " There, daughter, you are unwell," muttered the heayy- hearted father, in a voice of deep anguish; "don't talk so, and sit down." " I will not 1 I will go ! There, the eyes again I*' " It is your fancy, my poor child." " My fancy 1 It is false 1 I teU you there he is looking at me — there is blood on his bosom — blood for me to wip« away I" " My poor child " "Let me go!" The words were followed by a superhuman effort to dis- engage herself; but the iron grasp was not relaxed. " I loved him I I never loved any one before I I loved him with my whole heart — and he is dead I That man killed him — ^he is gone 1" " No, my child," murmured the poor father, who had ta- ken no notice of the young man's entrance, " he is not dead — ^there he stands," "Tes, I see him — ^it is his spirit I He is coming like Charles Austin to call me; Edmund I Edmund I I am com- ing!" And again the terrible struggle commenced. The sharp, white teeth caught the crimson Hp and gnawed it cruelly — the round, supple form writhed violently in the grasp of Mr. Argal. The paroxysm was succeeded by an interval \>i comparative quiet, and the frame of the young lady exhibit- ed evidences of exhaustion. A few more struggles ensued, and then they ceased. Her features relaxed ; the burning eyes filled with leaden langour ; the form drooped slowly, and murmuring, " I loved him only I'' the girl fainted in the arms of her father. Without speaking, he bore her to the sofa, and placed her unresisting figure on the cushioned seat. In a moment she revived, but it was only to burst into tears, and sos THE MASTER OF GREENWAY COXTBT. 261 hopelessly — she was plainly unconscious of any one's pres- ence. Mr. Argal gazed at her for a few moments, with an expression of wretchedness, mixed with tenderness unut- terable: then he turned and approached the young man. " You are shocked at this terrible scene, I see plainly, sir," he said in a low, collected voice; "and there is little eause for wonder in the fact. Pray retire with me — I havi ft few words to say to you." As he spoke, Mr. Argal summoned a maid, who went quietly to the side of her mistress with the air of one who was quite familiar with such scenes, and then the two men went out into the small porch. The youth walked in a dream as it were — his mind was struggling — ^he could not thiTik connectedly. Mr. Argal placed his hand, by an uncon- scious movement, upon his heart, and mastering his agita- tion, said in a low voice, full of gloomy sorrow : " Mr. Falconbridge, you hava become the depositary of a terrible secret of my family. Do you understand what you have just witnessed, sir ?'* " No," came from the white lips, in a tone almost inaudi- ble, " I do not, sir." "I will explain it. My daughter is mad." The words sent a shudder through the frame of Falcon- bridge, and his face turned paler than that of a corpse, but he said nothing. " The fit seized her to-day, sir,*' continued Mr. Argal, suppressing a groan; "it was probably occasioned by the affair between yourself and Lord Fairfax, which the servanta repeated." The young man drew a long, deep breath, but was still silent. " And now, sir," continued Mr. Argal, slowly r-ecovering his calmness, but speaking in a voice of heart-broken woe; " and now, sir, I owe you a few words of explanation, if only to vindicate my own character in this affair, from the impatations which must otherwise rest upon me. I Trill bo FiJBFAX, OB, plain, I will conceal notbmg — ^for I speak to a gentlamaa, and a man of honor. I will keep back no particular. My daughter has been subject to attacks of insanity, sir, from her childhood. It was not a defect of her birth, but occa- ftioned by a dangerous fall from a fruit-tree, which inflicted a deep wound upon her head, and affected the brain. Soon after this incident, I observed the indications of men- ial disease Her character, which had before been as open and ingenuous as the day, became secretive and subtile. She would look sidewise and watch the persons with whom she conversed, and store away in hidden places little objecta which she had taken. Then, as the years passed on, she changed more and more — she became cruel and pitiless, she, my own child ! who had been a very angel of goodness and tenderness — whose hearfc would have bled at the suffering of the least insect — she grew hard and unpitying I"" A low moan accompanied the words of the poor father; he controlled his agony with difficulty, but resumed : "The strange lustre you must have seen in my child's eyes, sir, then appeared. They glittered with a morbid light — an unnatural, insane ligbt^ 1 It was the misfortune of a poor youth to be attracted by their brightness — ^ho loved her, and when she dismissed him, at the momait when one of her paroxysms was approaching, he put an and to himself V Again the speaker paused, and a woful contraction of the lip showed the struggle which he had passed through be- fore revealing these things. "WeU, to go on, sir. "When she heard of the youth's death, she was seized with a fit of madness. I passed ibrough a scene like that which you have witnessed to-day; it made me twenty years older. But it ended: and my dbild returned to herself again; to wring her hands and weep, and exclaim that his death was caused by her act 8he wroto to the youth's brother and rival, a full history ol hm XMHtal aberration^ and requested him to never apprcMMb rBE JMASl^EE Of OOUBX. 23^ aei a^iiL So that terminated, and ioon afterward I i:^ moved hither. I now come to the scenes connected witit yourself, sir; and I acknowledge in advance that I have been guilty of a criminal weakness. I saw your attentions to my daughter, and feared the result. But I could not speak ! I should have done so, as a man of common hoa- esty — that is true, sir — bat I could not 1 Look at my face, Mr. Falconbridge ! See the vulture that is gnawing me ! I have been false to you — but I could not speak 1 Oh, sir ! may you never know what it is to feel this awful shame ! — to be drawn one way by your honor, and another way bj love for a poor insane child ! I could not reveal her a^vful secret, degrade her in all eyes, make her name the laugh- ing stock or the horror of every one 1 I could not brand my own child in your eyes with th© stigma of madness! So T paltered, sir, with my terrible responsibihty. i said to myself thai you were only a youth, in the region for a shoii time; that you would soon go, and our existence be forgot- ten. My poor child denied any engagement between you — I know not with what truth — I do not ask, sir. Then Lord Fairfax 9ppeared: she attracted his attention, and his ad- miration. This very day I had intended to go and tell him what I have told you, sir, if it killed me. That is alL I have spoken, Mi\ Falconbridge, with an ejffort, and laboring under an agony of feeling which no words can describe ! It is httle to declare to you that my heart is broken — but that is beside the question. I know not whether I should ever have found courage to tell you all, if you had not chanced to coyne when you did. But you know all now. I have striven to show you that in concealing my child's condition I did not act with deliberate dishonor, to entrap you. Before my Maker, sir, I solemnly declare that I am guiltless at least in this. I was weak, my heart was torn with £\Lam8 and anguish — I could not speak ! I should have fled from the country with my daughter on. the eve of her nuptial»— 264 FjUBT AX ; OB, With heading bosom and quivering lij«i, Mi. Arg»I waff silent for some moments. Then he added : "I have now told you everything, sir, and I feel lem shame than before. In a few weeks I go with i^y poor child from this region — ^in some distant land we may bury our shame and suffering. Without her, I should have no life — she is dearer to me than all the world. Speak well of her, Mr. Falconbridge — she is weak, not sinful I — or if that is impossible, say nothing 1 God has heavily stricken her, and her lot has been a terrible one — do not add to its dark- ness by your enmity or contempt ! After all, sir, however much she may hare wronged you, she is a woman, a mere girl, and should excite your pity 1 You heard her broken words — in her madness — she loved you — I pray you, sir, to forgive m;; poor child and me." The oken and agit ated voice died away, and no sound was hea-rd but the flutter of a single leaf, which parted from % bough of the oak above, and pattered down. The young man remembered that sound afterwards, and shuddered at it. To the strugghng words of the sorrowful speaker he made no immediate reply; his eyes were full of tears, his lips refused their office. At last he mastered his emotion m a partial degree, and in a tone almost inaudible, said : "Thanks for your confidence, Mr. Argal. I am so far from blaming you for not revealing all before, that I honor and respect your deep love and tenderness, and think I would have acted as you did. You know me well enough to believe me when I say that all this shall be locked up forever in my breast, I need scarcely add that no word against you or your daughter shaD ever pass my lips. From my heart, from my soul, from the depths of my soul, sir, I pity and sympathize with you ! Your daughter is sacred to me — it is as a child that I shall regard her — my heart is broken like yours, but I blpMie no one. In the presence ol ttiat Gk>d, sir, who afiSicted your child, [ swear to guard hei THE MASTER OF aREENWAT COURT. inaoae from reproach or wrong, I haA'O nothing to forgive if I had, I should forgive htr,*' He heid out his hand as he spoke, and a long pressure was exchanged. As the two hands were thus clasped, a low gob at the elbow of the young man made him start and tremble. He turned and saw Miss Argal standing motion less in the doorway, and holding toward him his mother's ring. Her face was wet with tears — her eyes swam as she gazed at him; she murmured, rather than said : " This is your ring, sir — I have deceived you. Will you forgive me ?" The words were followed by a quiver of the bleeding lip, and bursting into tears, the young lady placed her handker- chief to her eyes, and went hastily to her chamber. Falconbridge stood looking after her, with the ring in his hand, and never did the countenance of a human being ex- press more unutterable anguish. He leaned against the pillar of the portico for support, and uttered a groan of such despairing wretchedness, that it seemed to tear its way from the very depths of his being, and compress the woe of years into a second. Then, making a slight movement with his head toward Mr. Argal, he slowly went and mounted his horse. The bridle lay untouched upon the neck of the animal, and Fal- conbridge did not speak to or direct him. Sir John took the road at a gallop toward the Ordinary. 'The rider seemed to be dreaming. His shoulders bent for- ward; his chin rested on his breast; from time to time he passed his hand wearily across his forehead, and gazed ab- sently around him. The animal continued his headlong gallop. Half a mile from the Ordinary, the young man reeled In the saddle. Overcome by vertigo, he would have fallen tha next moment from his flying animal, when the bridle waa suddenly seized, the horse thrown on his haunches, a;id tha tnna of Ciiptais Wagoner caught the drooping form. 266 FAIRFAX; OB, ** So it ends !" cried the gloomy and sneering voice of the soldier, "all is over 1" Two words replied to him, as Falconbridge fainted -two wrordfl, in an accent of unspeajtable pity : m 1CA8TEB OF afiSENWAT OOUBXL IX THE APOLOOT. WO or three days have passed. It is a beantifal morning of the "Indian Summer" as before. The landscape of mountain and valley is repos- ing beneath the mellow haze; and the air has that dreamy and delightful softness which inclines the heart to reverie. Ilk the large room of Grv^enway Court, Lord Fairfax is conversing with George an^i Cannie. The youth had brought the girl behind him from the Fort on the preceding evening — they had spent the night — and before setting out to return, Cannie examined the objects around her, with evident interest. George was gazing at her with unconscious earnestness. His affection for the girl had grown deeper and stronger. As he came to know her better, the rare charms of her mind and heart had enthralled him. Her goodness and simplicity, and absence of all littleness, irresistibly attracted his frank nature; and the unconscious refinement and grace of the little maiden, riveted the influence which her char- acter had exerted upon the boy. He thus gazed at her with a fondness which was plainly uncontrollable, and the Earl smiled with melancholy pleasure as he saw the youth's secret. His countenance wore the old expression of sor- rowful thought, but there was nothing cynical in it row. 2Sh grim look had disappeared, and though cheerfulness was not there, still the face was more pleasant for the diange. He leaned back in his arm-chair, caressing with 0116 bwd ibe eolemn head of a huge deer-hound at bis side^ FAIRFAX OR, aiid his gaze wandered absently but pleasantly from Q^orgi to Cannie. "So, you like my house, Cannie?" he said; "my old hunting-lodge ?" "Tea, sir—on, yes, I mean my lord," returned the girl, •*I have been looking at the books and the pictures and all They remind me of home." Of home ? Do you remember your home ? Where worn that?" " In the Low Country, sir. But I was born in England.*' And you do not remember England ?" *'Very slightly, sir. I look upon Virginia as my homew •nd love it — because grandpapa is with me. He is all I have." Tne eyes of George kerned to contradict this statement, but he said nothing. Then a sigh from the Earl made him turn his head, " You are right, my child," said the old nobleman, gazing at Cannie with wistful tenderness; "our real home is the land whore the heart finds its rest. 'Tis a terrible disease, what is called home- sickness, Cannie, and I've feit it, aa many others have done." Thd quick look of sympathy in the eyes of the girl seemed to touch the Earl, and he continued m the same tone of melancholy softness: " I was born and reared in England, and you see that 1 am living now in another land. I long sometimes to look npon the familiar old scenes, and pluck a daisy from the sod of old England, my mother soil. I remember the same feeling in a nobleman of my acquaintance who was exiled by political troubles to France. His name was Henry St, John, a very brilliant person, whom you, George, have read of, I am sure, and it may be Cannie, also, though he's long dead, and she's very young. I had known him in London, and spent many delightful hours with him — for his conver- sation was wonderfully attractive. His favorite tripio wat mi HABPTKH ^^F ^REENWAT OOTTim XJ9 "i fhe superiority of a strong mind to misfortune — the strength i he possessed to bear up against obloquy and exile, sua- \ tained by his own thoughts and his philosophy. Well, see | how it ended. I went to visit him in France, and a more ] unhappy personage I have rarely seen. All his philosophy i was gone — he had yielded. ' The burst of the cloud had gone < near to overwhelm him,' he said one day : and he looked • as he spoke toward the cHffs of England, as a child does to- j ward its mother. He never rested in his efforts to regain | his home — and sometimes I think I am his shadow in the \ New World. I would return, and lay my bones in the soil | where my forefathers sleep." i The Earl was silent again, absently caressing the head of | the great deer-hound. j "All is the same, however, my dear," he added, in a j moment, "under the blue skies of home, or the stormj j douds of distant countries, the one thing is to be honest i and true. One looks down on us who governs and directs j for the best — do you not feel that?" \ " Oh, yes, sir — my lord," returned Cannie, to whose eyes the sad tones of the old cavalier had brought tears, " indeed j I do, and that is enough to make us happy, I am sure 1 In ' the mountaians or the lowlands. He is still beside us. Whether we are buried in the sands, or the ocean, it is still \ the same — as Mr. Falconbridge said, you remember, j George." \ "Mr. Falconbridge?" murmured the Earl; "do you know him, then, Cannie ?" "Oh yes, sir — ^he has been to see us, and I could not ; help loving him. His face is so kind and true-looking — and i when he smiles I feel as if it was sunshine." I " That is true," said the Earl, with a bright light in Ms ] eyes which made his face pleasant to behold ' M> Fal- ! bridge is truly a gentleman." I " Oh, I'm sure he is. I loved him front the fir^ aiox^^t I Mw h\mJ* 270 FAIBFAX, OB, " He loved you as well," said a voice behind tbe speaker. And Falconbridge, who had entered without attracting attention, inclined his head to the company. In a moment the girl, by an irresistible impulse, had risen to her feet, and caught in her own warm httle hand, the thin hand of the young man. Then she gazed into his eyes with a wistfol look, and said: "You are very, very pale, sir." Indeed the young man resembled a ghost rather than a human being. All the laughing pride of the eye and lip had vanished; his cheeks had lost their bloom, and were fall- ing away; an unspeakable sadness stamx^ed his entire coun- tenance and bearing; in a few days he seemed to have lived twenty years. As he smiled now, and pressed the Httle hand in his own, there was something so touching and pa- thetic in his appearance, that Cannie could not restrain her tears. " There, there, don't cry, my dear," said Falconbridge; "you distress me. The change in my appearance moves you, I suppose — but 'tis nothing. I have been somewhat unwell, but am better. I trust your lordship is weU." And the speaker inclined low, with stately courtesy, before the Earl. " Thanks — ^yes, sir — very well," replied Lord Fairfax, who had scarcely moved, and stUl regarded his visitor with evi- dent agitation. But there was nothing hostile in his emo- tion. On the contrary a strange earnestness and softness characterized his bearing, as he pointed to a seat, and bowed low to his guest. Many thanks, my lord," returned Falconbridge, ^' but my visit must be brief. In three days I sLall leave this re- gion, and I come to make an explanfition to your lord- ship." The Earl, still singularly agitated, glanced uneasily at QreoTge and Cannie. The two young persons rose w^'tk THE MASTEB OF 0REENWAY JOUBT. 271 quick courtesy, and would have retired, but Faloonbndge arrested them by a movement of his hand. "No, do not retire," he said; "my explanation is not a private one — and I have entire confidence in you both, George and Cannie. Pray remain, then — and now, my lord, for my business. I have come liither to say, like an honest gentleman, that I have wronged you, and to beg you to pardon me. I will imitate the reserve of your lord- ship on the mountain yonder, and add in general terma what I mean. I accused you, in my heart, and to your face, in the forest there, of an unworthy and dishonorable action I insulted and outraged you, and forced you to meet me in single combat I am truly glad at the issue of that busi- ness, for I wronged you, not intentionally, but no less really. Since that time, I have discovered my error, and your innocence. I have been ill, and had time to reflect. I have risen from my sick couch to come and say to your lordship, that I am sorry for my words and for my actions — to declare my conviction of your irreproachable honor — and to entreat your pardon and forgiveness." With these words Falconbridge bowed low again, and was silent. " I have nothing to forgive, sir," replied the Earl, almost eagerly; "I should rather sue to you — for I have wounded you, I fear, deeply On my honor, sir, the act was not ma- licious — I pray you to forget all, and receive my hand." There was something earnest and noble in the voice of the Earl as he thus spoke, and a slight color came to the cheek of the young man. He took the proffered hand, and the eyes of the strange rivals met in one long look of deep meaning. " I shall now beg your lordship's permission to retire,** said Falconbridge. " I am not well, and the ride hither haa fatigued me. As I have declared, in three days I leave this iountry. This will be my farewell to your lordship." 1!hexi tarmng to Qeorge and Cannie, he held out Isk 272 FAIRFAX OB, hand, with the melancholy smile Tvhich had excited tht child*s tears. She cried again as she took it, and 3eorg6 bit his Up to conceal his emotion. " I am glad to have seen your kind face again/' he said to Cannie; and yours, George, though I trust you'll come to see me before I go. And now, good-bye. I salute your lordship, and bid you farewell." In spite of the Earl's hospitable invitations to remain, which were uttered with great earnestness, the young man then departed; and soon afterwards G-eorge and Cannie set out on their return to the mountain. "In three days!" murmured the Earl, — '^then he goes in three days 1 But he shall not I — no, he shall not I How noble he is, and how palel Poor boy, my heart ached when he smiled as he did. In three days? We shall seel" As the Earl spokd thus, Captain Wagner hastily entered the apartment. m 1U8TEB or OBEENWAT COTTBK t7S LIL THE OOUBIERc HE appearance of the Borderer indicated new« d importance. " What has occurred ?" said the Earl. (( rpj^Q rascals are coming !" returned Wagner, throwing his hat on the table. " At least they are on the way, my lord — ^the Injuns 1" " Ah ! What of them ? What news of them T "A plenty, and too much. A coui'ier is following me, and he'U soon relate aU to your lordship. Well, I think we'll have stirring times at last. We'll eat 'em, or be eat by 'em, or I'm a dandy !" As the Borderer spoke, the sound of a horse's hoofs was heard, and in a few minutes a roughly-clad settler from the frontier entered, and bowed low to the Earl. His tidings were soon imparted. The Indians had crossed the Al- leghanies two days before, in large numbers, and had laid waste the entire South Branch manor, kilhng women and children, and even attacking Fort Pleasant and Edwards* Fort, on Cacaphon. In all directions, homes were blazing, fields on fire, the dead bodies of the settlers and their fami- lies were stretched across a hundred thresholds, along tha line of march of the savages. The incursion had been so sudden that no preparation, on the part of the borderers, had opposed it; and the whole region west of the town d Winchester was helpless at the feet of the advancing enemy. Such was the information of the courier, who gave his ac- count with long-drawn breaths, as one laboring under gTMt •xhaustioD. In fact h% had ridden night and day, vxi 274 was worn out. Old Jolm speedily took charge of him, Is obedience to the direction of his master, and the Captain »Mid Lord Fairfax were left *^icne together. " Well/' said the Earl, his swarthy face glowing; " well, Captain, there seems every probability of your prediction being verified. WeTl have fighting, and that speedily. What are the defences of the region immediately of Winchester?" " Few or none," returned fche soldier, knitting his brow and reflecting: " there's Pugh's, and Enoch's and Parker's Forts, with Edwards', the strongest. Further west, toward Fort Cumberland, are Pearsall's and Sellar's, and Fort Pleasant, which is well fortified. But these are passed. Its dooms unlucky, my lord — ^but these worthies seem to have heard nothing of the inroad until it was on 'em, and the very devil will be to pay, or I'm a dandy ! Where's the map ? I know the region by heart, but may forget some places ?" The Earl drew it out of the drawer, and they were soon poring over it. The result was discouraging. The forts mentioned by the Captain were all regularly laid down, but no others. " There are plenty of cabins," said the Borderer, frowning thoughtfully; "but they are shells that the first blow will smash. What remains ? I tell your lordship I have never been taken more aback. Messengers must, however, be sent immediately throughout the river counties. Ill aa* Bemble the hunters and settlers around here myself, and then let the bloody scoundrels look out. I have said Fd eat their carcasses, and I'U do it, or my name's not Wag* nerl" A quick discussion of the details then took place, and the plan of operations was agreed upon. In t wo hours couriora were depai-ting in all directions, and Captain Wagner him- self was scouring the country, to assemble the settlers in th« iomediatd vidnity* ¥HX MASTEB aBEMWAI OOUBT. 376 On the next evening a messenger arrived with the intt^iii- gence that the band of Indians had gone in an opposite 11* rection, toward the Potomac, phindei^ing and burning on their march. " 111 go after 'em," said the Captain, who had returned from his long ride; "the boys will assemble at Winchest«J to-morrow, and TU take command, as your lordship ha& directed." " Such is my wish, Captain," returned the Earl, " and thui we may take breath for a moment." "And rU take some Jamaica, with your permission, my lord, or zounds! without your permission, for I*m broke down ! I've been in the saddle till I feel as if I grew thera Fm bow-legged, or the devil take it !" Having swallowed his Jamaica, the Captain became more tranquil, and listened in silence to the Earl. "And now for a private matter of my own," said the Earl. " Where is Mr. Falconbridge, Captain?" "At the Ordinary, my lord." "Does he return to the Lowland?" "He! return to the Lowland! Who? Falconbridge f You don't know him, my lord. He's a good heart of oak, and you ought to have see his face when he heard of the killing of the women and children ! It was a glorious face, or I'm a dandy! The very devil in his eyes. You don't know that man as I know him. He is one of the kindest and softest-hearted fellows in the world, but I'd rather go through fire than arouse him ! He go to the Lowland, with those women and children kicking and squalling over there, %& the bloody scoundrels slit their windpipes? I fancy it! No 1 He'll be duly in the ranks to-moiTow, and I woiddn'i give a sixpence for the red devil that meets him !" " Good, goocj r said the Earl, with glowing cheeka, " That is like him, Captain. I knew it — I was sure of it} but he is weak, you know — ^he has been sock." 176 FAIHFAX; OB, And a strange pathos was discernible in the tones of the Earl. "Sick or well, he is with ns," returned the GaptaixL " Tour lordship seems really interested in him/' " I have reason to be." " How so?" The Earl did not immediately reply. He mused and heth itated. Then suddenly his irresolution disappeared, and turning to the soldier, he said : Captain, did you not think the scene on the Fort Moun- tain, on the day of our duel, a very strange one?" "A perfect puzzle! — a mystery! Ive been racking my brain to understand it ever since." "WeU, ru teU you what it meant," repHedthe Earl, "il you will make me two promises." " Two promises, my lord?" "Very simple ones. The first is to guard sacredly what I tell you, and the other is to go this evening, in spite of your fatigue, and bring Falconbridge hither to sleep. I must Bee him." " I promise both, my lord — and you know me. When a thing is told to me, I put it under lock and key, and the rack couldn't get me to tell it. I don't talk in my sleep, and Tve carried this hatred of the practice of gossiping so far that I've often forgot things on purpose. I knew a man once who always, when he got a letter headed * bum this, Ht one corner of it to read by. He read the last line as th« flame burnt his fingers. That's my habit. I don't repeat— I forget." The Earl nodded, well satisfied, and said: " I can trust you, Captain Wagner. I ^ve you a mark ol this entire confidence now. I wish yoa to watch over and guard the person whom you know as Falconbridge, and to explain this request, I am about to give you m brief hi»> tory. Are we wholly a? one?" twt yji^mai or chimjkwat oocna Sft The Captaiu rose and examined the doors and windows, then returned to his seat. " Completely, my lord; and now I listen. * The person 1 know as Falconbridge ?' Hum I" The Earl looked into the fire for some moments, with thoughtful gravity; then fixing his melancholy eyes upon the Borderer, commenced the narrative which he had promised. 8T8 fiJBFAX; 0R» Lm. THE BALL IN THE RIGHT SHOULDEB APTAIN," said the Earl, with that look of deep sadness which made his countenance at times so touching, "my life has been more or less un- happy from its commencement, but I think I jtiave suffered, within the last month — nay, within a few days — as much as, or more, than in many years before. I have learned what is one of the most sorrowful things in all this world — that much happiness has been wrongfully denied me by one of my fellow-creatures — that I have sighed where I might have smiled — that the heaven above me has been obscured and gloomy, when the simple act of a simple mor- tal might have dissipated every cloud, and made the sun shine brightly for me. " But to drop these generalities and come to my naiTa^ tive. It will not be long, but shall contain the truth and the whole truth. Men at my age do not make intimate confidences for the pleasure of talking — and yet I experi- ence something Kke pleasure, sir, in the thought that I am about to unburden my mind of some events and thoughts which have long oppressed it. I do not conceal, neverthe- less, that I have my own personal object in this matter ; 1 repeat what I said but now, that I wish you to watch over the person whom you know by the name of Falconbridge — with him is connected all that I shall say. " Listen, sir. I was bom at the end of the last century, at my father's house of 'Denton,' in Yorkshire, and grew up i& eight of the patrimonial oaks of my family — -in the famil- itsti nifltie Bc^mes of English life. My father^ Thomm^ Lord THE KASTEB OF GKEEKWAY COOTT. 279 Fairfax, tlie fifth of the name, was a cold, but not an nnkind man; mj mother, Catherine, daughter of Lord Culpeper, was a very saint on earth. Under the tuition of these be- loved parents, and a worthy old gentleman who lived at Denton, I grew to the age of seventeen; when I was sent to the University of Oxford. There, I passed through the ordinary routine of study, and neglect of study, and on leaving the University, obtained a commission in the royal regiment o^ the * Blues.' This, however, did not hold me long. I resigned my commission from distaste for the Life of barracks, and plunged into the whirlpool of London, My rank gave me access to the finest society of the time, and at nineteen I had become, my friends informed me, one of the most perfect specimens of a maccaroni to be found in the club-houses and drawing-rooms of the capital. I en- joyed this dissipated mode of life for some months, mingling with delight in the political and literary circles which were ornamented by the presence of Bolingbroke, Addison, and other hghts of the day; and then, wearied out with play, vnth. the theatres, with fine ladies, and simpering beaux, I retired to Denton, and became a country gentleman again. " And now commences the series of events which I design relating. My hfe hitherto had been gay and splendid — no cloud had crossed the bright sky of my youth ; in the bril- liant circles of London, as in the jovial scenes of Oxford, I had basked in uninterrupted sunshine, and never given a single thought to care; never indulged in one violent oi discordant emotion. I was ere long to learn that human life cannot glide away in one unbroken current of limpid smoothness; that there are breakers and reefs on the most smiling coast, which the most experienced pilot cannot al- ways avoid. I was no such experienced person, I need not tell you. To great ignorance of the world, in spite of my years in London, I added an excitable and headstrong tempei when aroused: and this defect of my blood was not long in rtrmling iidelt I had never quuralled with a&j4KKlgr ml Oxford or in London: in both places 1 had Mved amemg flcenes which are often disturbed by evil passions; but I passed through intact. I had gono to the theatres, and supped with wits and gallants, played tric-trac, and wan- dered forth with the Mohocks at three in the morning, on their revels and absurdities, perpetrated at the expense ol the watchmen of the city; all this I passed through without once drawing ray sword, without a single afiair; how was I to have an affair, in the apparently sluggish scene of ¥crk- shire. " There was a gentleman of the neighborhood about forty jears of age, whose name was Sir William Powys. He had once possessed a very fine estate, but owing to his want of management, and the extravagant mode of living which he pursued, this great property had gradually melted away. It was covered with mortgages, by means of which Sir Wil- liam had, from time to time, raised large sums of money to sustain him in his mode of Hving — and among the holders of these mortgages was my father. He was neither by habit nor inclination a money-lender, and long resisted the request of Sir Wilham, to advance him a large sum of money which had gradually been saved from the proceeds of the Denton Estate. At last, however, he yielded to the soUcitations of the knight, and dehvered to him the sum, taking a mortgage on the bulk of the Powys Court manor. This had happened a year or two before my arrival — and just before I came, my father had foreclosed the mortgo^e, and forced Sir William to alienate almost his whole property. I know not if this action of my father was harsh. From my knowledge of his character, as from the general tenor of his life, I am con- vinced that he proceeded to this apparently unkind act, in the purest defence of the interests of his family. My sister, lince dead, was about to be married, and a settlement was absolutely required on the part of the Fairfax fanuly. Sir William could not, or would not. repay the money borrowed *-«nd as I hare said« the mortgagee was foreclosed He THE MASTEB OF GEEENWAT COTJBT. 281 parted with his property without any overt act of enmity ; but it was soon whispered throughout the shire, that the knight denounced my father at his own table and elsewhere as a usurer, a Shylock, a Jew money-lender, and in othei' terms equally insulting. "I need scarcely say, sir, that this intelligence set my blood on fire. My father was then a gray- haired man, full of years ; and I knew that he was physically unable to right himself. A long, well-spent life, it is true, gave the lie to these base insinuations and calumnies ; but in our famih we are restive under insult, no matter whether it injures or not. I saw my father's face flush more than once, when these expressions were unguardedly alluded to in his pres- ence — and I longed for an opportunity to revenge upon the calumniator the wrong which he had perpetrated toward Lord Fairfax, I was determined to seek him, and pick a quarrel upon some indifferent ground: and then — said with clenched teeth — I will put an end to him, or he shall put an end to me.' An opportunity of carrying out my de- sign soon presented itself. In the vicinity of Denton, and not far from Powys Court, was the race-course of the county. Here, upon a certain day, were assembled all the gentlemen and ladies of the region around. I repaired to the race- course early, but not with any design of betting. 1 sought Sir William Powys, who would attend I heard — and I was soon gratified. I descried his tall form approaching upon horseback, in the midst of a number of his friends; and I even now recall his athletic and powerful figure, which in bulk of muscle, pride of carriage, and its haughty air of su- periority, threw into the background every personage about him. He dismounted and gave his bridle to a groom. Then, accompanied by his friends, he approached the open Bpace beneath the balcony, which was filled with ladies and gentlemen, intent on the coming festivity. The horses, in their sweat-doths, were being led up and down; a hundred •omintfiti were made by the crowd who inspected thi»B| 233 FAIRFAX; OB, and bets were o^ery /roment offered and taken by ihe gen* fclemen on the variorfi racers which had been entered. " I approached the group, in the midst of which Sir Wil- liam was st^nc^ing and expatiating upon the merits of the horses. As I drew near I heard him say; " ' Three to one on the bay — in tens or hundreds/ " * Done, Sir William/ responded the gentleman to whom he spoke, and who was an acquaintance of mine. His imrna was Sir John Colburn. congratulate you, Sir John,' I said, laughing; *the bay's a miserable hack, and will probably be distanced the first heat.* I saw Sir William Powys turn as if an adder had stung him. He was proud of his knowledge of horse-flesh; indeed, it was one of his weak points — and to have his judgment thus sneered at, and by a mere boy, such as I happened to be, enraged him profoimdly. His eye flashed, and he sur- veyed me from head to foot with a glance which was in- tended to annihilate me. It failed, however. I have a fac- ulty of my blood in a very marked degree — I grow cooler aa I become more exasperated. I hated Sir William at that moment, mortally — and I replied to his insulting look by a satirical smile. This heated him more dangerously — I saw his chet'k turn crimson with anger. "*And who are you, sir!' he said, in a tone o\ excessive rudeness, ' who are you, that presume to put your opinion iigainst mine?' " * I thought you knew me, sir,' I said, with perfect cool- ness, ' as I remember meeting you some years since. Bui no matter. My name is not important — and I presume, in Bpite of your extreme dissatisfaction, to say that in my humble opinion the bay is the poorest and most ludicrous horse entered ; it is hard to look at him without laugh- ing in fact — and uo one but a tyro would bet on him.' " 'What do you mean, sir !' said Sir William, turning white wiih rage at my tone of diadainfal indi£[erencei and adraao* THE ItASTER OF GBEENWAY OOUBX. 888 lag oloie to me as he spoke, 'your meaning, sir I — if it is u insnlt yen intend uttering, this horse-wliip shall teach you-1' " In an instant we had grappled. I had designed nothing of the sort; but the sight of the degrading instrument raised above my head, aroused the devil in me, and made me wild. I caught at it, fully intending to wrench it away, and apply it to his own person — and in a moment we were locked in a furious embrace. We were parted immediately by the bystanders, who rushed to us with loud exclamations — and a glance at the balcony above showed me that a young lady had fainted, and was being borne out. " * Who — ^is — this person ?' panted Sir William, with power- less fury ; 'had my right arm been unm aimed I would have punished Lis insolence!' And he glared at me wildly, and would have tried to strike me again, had not his friends re- strained him and told him my name. "*Tom Fairfax! Tom Faii-fax!' he muttered, with denched teeth ; ' very well 1 this may be arranged elsewhere I Ahl a Fairfax, is it r " ' Yes, sir,' I repUed scornfully, ' my name is Fairfax, al^ most or quite as good a name as your own, and you shall not have to wait very long for the " arrangement " you de- sire T " With these words we exchanged ceremonious bows, and separated — Sir John Colburn accompanying me. In three hours aU was ' arranged ' as I had promised. We were to meet with pistols, at a spot near the race-course, which had been agreed on. The objection to the use of short-swordji lay in the condition of Sir William's right arm — he had been kicked a short tiiae before by one of his horses, and some- what disabled. He insisted very generously and fearlessly upon swords, but bis second overruled him, and pistols were decided upon. " Well, not to lengthen my narrative unduly — we met : at tkdft first fire mj b&U penetrated his ri^ht shoulderi w4 89 S84 FAIRrAX; OB, great was the agony whicli it caused him, that he fell, anc fainted from loss of blood. His ball did not touch me The duel ended thus, and Sir William was borne home in his carriage. It was his daughter who had fainted in th< balcony. " So terminated/' continued the Earl, "an affair which was recalled to my recollection in a very strange manner some time since — ^in the Ordinary yonder. But to resume. I returned home only half pleased with the issue. Such is the depravity of the human heart, and to such a height had I been aroused by the wrong done my father, that — am sorry to say it, but I must be candid — I thirsted for my en- emy's blood. For the present, however, this desire was doomed to disappointment. I reflected — but on the very next day a new means presented itself. Sir William's fam- ily consisted of a son and a daughter — Edith and Arthur, who were twins : — ^well, Arthur, on the morning after my duel with his father, sent me a challenge, which I accepted at once. He was a few months younger than myself, but was reputed to be an excellent swordsman. I referred his friend to Sir John Colburn, and everything was soon agreed upon — but the matter was all at once arrested. My father had remonstrated with me strongly for my affair with Sir WiUiam, and begged me to avoid in future any occasion of renewing the quarrel. If I insisted upon fighting he would meet Sir William himself. He soon found out my design of meeting Arthur Powys, and rode hastily to Powys Court There had never been any open quarrel between the two— and their meeting, I afterwards heard, was amicable. The consequence of the visit was, that the elders forbade the juniors, on pain of their displeasure and forfeit of affection, to proceed in the matter. In the end, both Arthur and my- self were summoned to the side of the sick man — and Sir William very nobly apologized for his insult to me on the race-course. ^^SMd I known you, air/ ha MdcU *I ihoald MTir hmm THE MASTEB OF GBEENWAY OOtVt. S88 been guilty of the act of raising a horse-wliip to strike yon —that, I need not say. I saw no indication of your rank or family — and now beg to say to you, that I deeply regret the whole occurrence, as I regret some very inconsiderate and ill-advised expressions which I doubt not, really led you to provoke me into a quarrel. There must be no more contention. Viscount, and if you refuse me this request, 1 shall rise from my sick couch and meet yoii when you will — ^if you require me, this moment." " This speech ended all. The apology for the hasty reflec- tions upon my father calmed me somewhat, and the matter terminated by the withdrawal of Arthur's challenge. Ten days afterwards I was out fox-hunting with a num- ber of gentlemen, among whom was Arthur Powys. We were separated from the rest, and rode side by side at a great pace. We came to a bad fence — ^Arthur's horse rolled into a ditch, and he fell beneath. I drew up quickly, and dismounted. His leg was cruelly fractured, and taking h\rn in my arms like a child, I held him on the saddle, and slowly conveyed him to Powys Court. As I entered the last gateway, the insensible figure resting upon my bosom, the pale face near my own, I saw a young lady rush out, wild with terror, and hasten toward me, weeping. It was Edith Powys, who received from my arms the uneonscious torn of her brother. Our handfi touched: it was the first time \ 286 CHAPTEE LUL THE CEiaiNiLLS OF THE PORTRAIT. ITH this incident," the Earl gravely ec'sikiiBtiddj " commenced my new life. From that moment, when she came crying to take the young man upon her bosom, I loved Edith Powys with all the ardor of youth and romance. I do not scoff at it, or laugh, as some persons I think do ; love to me, sir, has been a blessed reality, and solace — the supreme comfort and charm of my existence. I have known many sneer at wo- men, and at the passion of pure love — for myself I regard it with a sacred wonder, and kneel almost humbly before a true-hearted girl, be she the peasant maid or queen on her throne. Oh no, sir ! women are capricious — they are fanci- ful — they have many great weaknesses — but at the bottom of all the folly which appears in many of them, there is purest gold ! " Well I loved Edith Powys— she is with me still, though long years have fled over me, and dulled my heart, since the day when I buried her beneath the spring violets at Denton. It was the decree of an All-merciful being that she should love me too — in spite of all her prepossessions against me. She often told me afterwards that her senti- ment toward me, on the day when I grappled with her father in front of the balcony on the race-course, was pure hatred — and that she had registered a vow never to have any otker for me. But the sight of her brother bleeding in my arms — pressed to my he::rt-— this touclied her and paved the way for the entrance of less bitter feelings; ami ttiMi love came to answer the love I felt for hm THE MASTER OF GBEENWAY COUBT. 287 "Powys Court was bo longer closed against me now. Thanks to the incident which I have related, entrance waa freely accorded me. 1 had really conceived a strong friend- ship for Arthur — ^first from the fact that we never afterward look indifferently upon a person whom we have been kind to — whose weak form we have carried in our arms— and secondly, fr-om another atid equally natural circumstance. The brother and sister were not only twins — they were the most extraordinary copies of each other. Both had delicate features — the same clear, fr*ank eyes — the same hps full of laughing pride — the same soft brown hair. Had Edith as- sumed the costume of her brother, you would have said, that a miniature Arthur Powys stood before you. Had the brother donned a female dress, Edith, larger it is true, and more masculine, but still Edith, would have looked at you with the smile of her brother. " I have a portrait of the young man, painted some years after these events — 'tis up stairs over the fireplace of one of the bed-chambers. I scarce dare to look at it when melan- choly oppresses me — for the resemblance to Edith Po\vy8 sends a thrill of bitter anguish through my heart, and I re- call aU the past, as I gaze ! To continue: I say that this singular resemblance between the young man and the young lady, insensibly drew me to his side. In his company I was almost enjoying the society of his sister. I availed myself of the incident which had bound us together, and went regularly to ask after his health. He soon improved. The fracture was painful, but yielded to the treatment of the physicians, and he was soon limping about the house again •—leaning on my shoulder or his sister's, and smiling as be- fore. He was a noble youth — one of the truest hearts Fve •ver known. He soon came to look upon me with affection and confidence, and the feud between the houses of Faii'fax and Powys seemed destined to terminate with the elders. **But I had calculated without my host Sir Williara Powys was oae ot tkose men who ueyer torgivd. He might S88 FAntFAX; OB, waive his enmity, for the occasion, and even ntter words ol courtesy and good humor — ^but beneath all this was the im- placable memory — the rooted and ineradicable recollection of his real or fancied wrong. It thus happened that the keen-eyed knight watched the growing intimacy between myself and his daughter with ill-disguised disapprobation and oppoftUjon. He was too well bred to refuse her hand before I nad asked it; and evidently writhed with secret anger at the past. As my object in visiting Powys Court became plainer and plainer, and the artless afiection of the yoimg lady was less disguised, the Knight's dissatisfaction grew more intense. I saw it, and ground my teeth as I thought of it, often — ^but that was all. In the depths of my heart I think I really respected him more for it — for his loy- alty to the family feud and the dislike he exhibited and plainly experienced, to a match between his daughter and a person, his social superior. He was only a baronet, and his possessions were reduced to nothing nearly — ^but he never- theless opposed bitterly the union of his child with one who would soon be Earl of Faii*fax and Baron of Cameron, with ample means of keeping up both titles. Indeed there was nothing small or mean about Sir WiUiam Powys. If he ever committed an action which seemed to indicate those qualities, you had only to search deeper, and a more noble passion would reveal itseK. The craving for vengeance might induce him to act basely — but mere paltry love of gain never could. * Thus, to return, I was obliged stiU to respect the knight, in spite of my bitter feelings at his manifest opposition. I tried to sof tem him — ^it was all in vain. Edith and Arthur became my advocates, and would sound my praises. Tha baronet only sneered, and asked if both of them were in love with me. Thus things went on until I could no longer control myself. I went to Sir William one day — confessed my affection for his daughter — and requested his permisnon to pav my addresses. 209 *• * My permission^ sir T he said, with a bitter latlgb, *wliy Iruly you are a very entertaining person.' " * Sir William !' I exclaimed. " *0h! don't let us argue,' he replied, 'I'm not rach a dunce, sir, as not to see beyond my nose. I have observed what has taken place in my house for some months past, and I therefore say that your addresses have been paid without ceremony, and without my leave, sir 1 You will judge your- •elf if the act was not dishonorable 1' " His face began to flush — and my own as darkly. " * Sir William,' I said, ' you have wronged and insulted me 1 It is not becoming to do so, when I hold the positioa toward you which I do. And permit me to say, sir, that 1 have done nothing unworthy of the name I bear — of the name of Fairfax, which is as old and as honorable as that of Powys ! " His reply was a burst of rage. The comparison of the two names seemed to arouse aU his old enmity. He gnashed bis teeth, and seemed about to offer me some outrage. had dared to come into his house, he said, and wile away the heart of his daughter — and his son. Under the mask of friendship I had beguiled her affections, and now came im- pudently to ask permission to pay my addresses. No! I should not have his consent ! I should never marry his daughter ! No person who bore the detested name of Fair- fax should wed with one of the family of Powys ! He had intended to express to his daughter plainly, his feelings on the subject long before — ^but pride restrained him. He had hoped that her sense of what was due to himself, as well aa the blood which ran in her veins, would preserve her from yielding to this miserable infatuation! But he would no longer preserve silence I He would speak his mind plainly 1 Then, if she chose, she might marry me and welcome I She would at least have his curse for a dower ! "The baronet uttered all this and much more with a fery wrath and indignation which seemed to increase as he 13 m FATRFAX; OR, proceeded. When his speech ended, he was furiotw, alii r^i with anger. I was pale. " * Sir William Powys/ I said, with a sinking heart, but a collected voice, *you have done what gentlemen seldom do — insulted a visitor in your own house ! But I have no in- Bult to hurl back in return. Tou know well that I cannoi answer you — ^you know why. I scorn to reply to your cliarges of dishonor — they fall harmless, for they are unjust and unfounded, as you know. I shall now go, sir — this in^ terview ends all, as you desire. I will intrude myself upon no family which scorns me — you need fear nothing, sir — ^it will not be necessary to curse your daughter.' **And I bowed and went away. On the portico I met Edith. She was as pale as death. She had heard all through the open window. With a quivering lip she held out her hand, I pressed it to my lips with a groan, and rode away, at a gallop, with a choking sensation in my throat. I had acted as a gentleman of the house of Fair- fax should act — but my heart was almost broken in th6 struggle. " I will hasten on in my narrative. ^Vhen eld evenU » tom they begmle me into unending details." THB MASTBB OP GBEENWAT OOTTTOl 291 WHAT THB PACKAGE TOKN BY THK BEAH CONTAXBnEO. FEW months afterward, Editli Powys had b®^ come my wife :— my father and mother wer« both dead : — I was the head of the hoasa, tShough I had not reached my majority." The Earl paused as he uttered these words, and a deep sigh issued from the depths of his heori These memoriea evidently agitated him profoundly — ^l)ut controlling his emotion, he continued his narrative. " I shall not pause to speak of the grief I experienced at the loss of my parents — ^upon that subject I do not hke to Bay anything. I shall confine my attention to the events which I wish to relate. The explanation of my marriage will not be either difficult or lencrthy. From the day on which I held the angxy interview with Sir William Powys, the relations between himself, and his son and daughter, liad greatly changed. A mutual coldness sprung up. Th« father regarded the daughter as a rebel against his author- ity — an unworthy scion of the house of Powys. The daugh- ter — with what justice you must decide—considered her father harsh and unjust. The insults which he had heaped upon an unoffending gentleman, aroused her nice sense of fairness and justice, and his coldness toward herself revolted her pride and self-respoci ; in a word, the family at Fowjn Court were divided, a: 1 marshalled on opposite sidea Arthur sided with his sister. He was never, in the remot< st degree, discourteous to his father; but a thousand trifli ig inddeuts indioated hid opinion of the amount of blame i^ t9S fASMAX\ dtti fcaching to eack. Under this household discord, the batt)ii6i writhed vainly. There was nothing to find fault with, no disrespect ever was shown him, much less any disobedience his orders and requests were all sedulously compUed with, and no word of complaint was uttered. But the skeleton was there. In the eyes of the young man and his sister, the knight read as plainly as in a printed book, changed feeling, cookiess, the revolt against injustice. The baronet endured it in wrathml silence — but he endured it. It broke the health of his daughter. She could not preserve hei feeling toward her father without bleeding inwardly — ^her cheek became paler and paler — she grew ill. Then she did not rise from her couch, and the tragedy approached ita catastrophe. The baronet went to see her one morning, and she threw her arms around his neck, and burst into tears. She could not go on feeUng toward him, she said: it would kiU her; she loved hifii jaore than her life; he was her own dear father, and she had been sinful. — Then her voice was choked with sobs. AU the tenderness so long pent up in the heart of the baronet responded. He took the girl to his heart, gazed with apprehension upon her white worn cheeks, and groaned aloud. An hour after- ward he had passed through the great struggle between his a£fection and his pride. He came to Denton and begged me to pardon his harsh words. Would I ride back to Powys Court with him? He set his teeth close as he «poke, and breathed heavily. "I need scarcely say that I acceded to the invitation. The weeks which had elapsed, had nearly killed me — ^my health and strength were gone — I was the mere shadow oi myself. The loss of Edith had nearly broken my heart, and I moped like an octogenarian. Thus I had no pride to op- pose to the baronet. I think my face flushed with delight. His horse scarcely kept up with my own as we rode toward Powys Court. ^^I did not Bee Edith, of coursOi but I saw Arthur He XHB KASTBB OP OKKENWAT OOTTBT. m jUiied with us; and I could read in his frank face the happi* ness he felt at the event of the morning. The baronet wai sedulously courteous and attentive to me during dinner, an^ we sat long at the table, drinking wine and talking on a variety of topics. We both understood that the whole scene was a piece of acting — but when two men desire mutually to carry on a drama, there is no failure in the dialogue or the gesture. I knew that the obdurate father had relented; that he intended Axthur to relate everything to Edith; and he doubtless knew that I rated his sudden courcesy at its just value, and comprehended its design. When I left the house, I had promised to return in a few days. When I again entered the old hall, I was told that Edith awaited me in the drawing-room. Arthur handed me a paper as he said this, smiling; and I read the words : " *I consent that Viscoxmt Fairfax shaU proceed in tho matter upon wMch we had, some months since, a discussion, if it stiU be the desire o/ that gentleman. William Powts.' "I blushed with delight, and placing the paper in my bosom, hastened forward toward Edith, who came to meet me with a faint color in her cheeks. Let me not speak farther of this scene, except to say that when I left Powya Court, late in the evening, the young lady was affianced to me. Six months afterward we were married. " I now speak of a portion of my Hfe, which stands out clear and distinct from the rest, as one of the great mountain headlands here, lit by the sunset, raises its head above the gloomy valleys. For a time I was happy — wholly, perfectly. The days glided away like hours, and they were days of unalloyed sunshine : for I loved my wife with a depth of tenderness which is indescribable. She bloomed in the great old hall at Denton, like a flower of the fpring; blessing me with her sweet smile, and tender eyes, wid adding a new lustre to my life. Those months are now mj most oherished recollection; I go away from the lonely 1 ^94 fAS}>Su3LX ; 04, I present, and live again in the 'p^.st. I feel her Ji#»art beat against my own, and — I wake from the dream to stretch i out my widowed arms and utter a groan — for she is past j the stars I I My narrative is nearly ended. I proceed now to relate events which have been a mystery to me for more than a qnai'ter of a century — which I came to comprehend but th'^ ! other day — on the mountain there, when I retired with the personage who passes under the name of Powell, but who is \ no other than the Sir William Pov^ys, of whom I am speaking. ' Yon start, but do not interrupt me. To continue: Left alone | almof:;^, at his old country house, the baronet became silent ^ and gloomy. His daughter had been more to him than all ] else in the world, and by removing her from his side, I had j added another to the long list of wrongs which he had | scored uj) in his brooding memory *i^ainst the name of ; Fairfax. Arthur was go<:Ki company, and had been the \ pride of his father; bat t'te young man's espousal of his | sister's cause, had created & <50olness toward him on the part | of the baronet; and the old famihar relations between them j were thus interrupted. Another cause of complaint against the young man was the frequency of his visits to Denton, i whither the baronet himself very seldom went; and thus j the days of the master of Powys Court were lonely and un- j happy. Upon my head, as I now know, all the pent up etorm was secretly discharged. He had been forced by cir- l tjumstances to sanction my union with Edith, but his j repugnance to myself remained undiminished; and this feel- j ing ripened rapidly into a sentiment of actual hatred — j smouldering silently, and only awaiting an ^ppo^'tunity of J striking its object. This opportunity soon came. The ' Countess of Fairfax returned, after the English custom, to j Q e mansion of her parents, to pass through that ordeal of i B ifTering, which Grod has imposed upon women as the pen- | alty of their entrance into the sacred world of maternity. | True, Edith's mother was not iiying, but at Powys Oouit, j THE MASTEB OF GEEENWAT OOUBX Bhe might fancy the presence of the dear form at her bed- side; and to Powys Court she accordingly went. ** A month afterward, an heir of my name was bom, but died in twelva hours. My wife was akeady dead — she had surrendered her existence in giving life to another human being. She died with her hand in my own, smiling sweetly as she always smiled when she looked at me; as she will smile, I trust, when we are reunited in heaven, where sorrow and tears come no more." The Earl pressed his hand lo his forehead, and his weary eyes moistened as he thus recalled the scenes of the past, His brows contracted with a weary shadow, and a groan which issued from the bottom of his heart, revealed the extent of his suffering. He remained thus silent, and overcome by emotion for some moments, then his eyes suddenly became dry again, and a flash darted from them. A cold and men- acing expression came to the quivering Hp, and he con- tinued : "I said that my son died twelve hours after his birth. In so declaring, I gave the statement of his nurse and Sir William Powys — a falsehood Yes, a horrible, base false- hood, unworthy of a menial, much more of a gentleman! The truth will serve to display the awful depths of depravity, to which a nian who profoundly hates anc hher will descend, under the influence of a thirst for venge:ince. It was not my son who died; it was the child of one of the maids, bom almost at the same moment, and substituted, in ite death-throes, in place of my own. The unhappy man con- fessed all to me on the Fort Mountain in our interview — confessed with shame and repentance, and shuddering humiliation, the means which he had made use of to rob me of this solace of my widowed heart. By a large bribe he induced a woman of the household to make the change; the ehild of the servant thus died in the chamber where mj dead wife was lying; nxiae was placed in the arms of tha iervant as her own. "Thns, under tlie stimulus of h nurribie i^entimeiit ol hatred, and thirst for vengeance, did Sir William Powyi commit an action which has made him, he declares, supremely miserable for more than a score of years. Bjs object was a double one. He aimed at depriving me of an inexpressible consolation, and at securing to himself the child of hia daughter. It was almost with burning jealousy, he declares, that he thought of me, in possession of this memorial of hia child, whom he loved so tenderly, and relinquished to me only to make her happy. His scheme, he dedlares, was tc rear the boy carefully, to make him heir to his entire pos- sessions; and before I died to reveal the whole matter, and further secure for him the earldom and wealth of the house of Fairfax. Such was his design — a portion of it woefully Bucceeded. But to return. " I followed the dead bodies of my wife, and my supposed child, to the Denton churchyard, and saw them placed in the earth. Then I mounted my horse and returned to my desolate home, broken-hearted and longing for death to put an end to my misery. I was destined to be struck again heavily. A servant handed me a package as I dismounted; I opened and read it with a quivering lip; then I fell into a seat, almost prostrated. My guardians had cut off the entail of Denton, in order to preserve the great Leeds Cas- tle Manor, derived from my mother, the daughter, as I have Baid, of Lord Culpeper: the house of my forefathers was no longer my own; I was tenant at Denton by sufferance. I despair of conveying to you any adequate idea of the weight of the blow which thus struck me. It is true the project had long been under consideration, in spite of my remon-- Btrances and protests; but 'I was now so near my legal ma- jority, that I had abandoned all fears upon the subject. I was tottering when the stroke came; it almost prostrated me. Denton was lost to me I It was no longer my own I The house which I was born in, which recalled to me every happy moment of my youth, which my wife had lived TSE UASFTEBL Of OEEXKWAT OO0BT* Wl And made sacred in my eyes — ^Denton was tlie property strangers. To my overpowering pain, succeeded a mad, speechless rage; and I stormed like a child at the men who had done this. I went to them and told them I would never forgive them; but it was a pitiful conclusion after alL I was powerless- ^finally I yielded, and grew calm. I sur- rendered the house and went to London. I lay there for months tossing with fever — then I rose, an old man a4 fcwenty-one. ^ Such were the events of my early years in EngkadL** LYL OONOLUSION OF THE EAXL'b STABBATITl. HE rest of my narrative," continued the Eail, "may be related briefly. But, first I shall tell you what you have no claubt understood ere this, that the young man w^o passes here under the name of Falconbridge m my son. net me go on. "After his terrible, and successful plot, Sir William Powys proceeded quietly to adopt and rear the child, of whom he had deprived me. But events soon occurred ■which overthrew all his calculations. A creditor who had a claim upon every foot of land which the baronet possessed, forced the payment of the debt, and thus Powys Court passed from its owner's hands, as Denton had escaped from mine. The bajronit was thrown upon the world, and had it not been for his f on, Arthur, would have had nowhere to lay his head. The young man had married some time before, and now received his father and the child under his root "But Sii* William was haunted eternally by a single thought. He dreaded the discovery by himself of the infant's identity, and the thought of being compelled by law to part with him, aroused all the old hatred and jealousy in his heart. The boy already began to display unmistakable indications'of his origin. He was the image of hiw mothor> and no one who had ever seen Edith failed to note, a.^d refer to this resemblance. Peoi^le began to inquire why the haughty and aristocratic Sir William Powys had adopted aud xeoeiyed as his own child^ the son of a siervant in his hoiM- THE MASTER OP GREKNWAY OOUBTL 29* hold. The gossips of tlie neighborhood duly seLzoJ upon the matter, and began to shake their heads, and ask if that poor young Lord Fairfax had really lost his child. It was a vague and undefined idea in all minds ; but the question was not permitted to r3si ''This state of things became at last so troublesome, that Bir William ca.st about him for some means of quieting tJia gossips, and at the same time securing the infant from ev©f falling into my hands. The means all at once presented themselves. A Mr. Falconbridge of the region was about emigrating to the Virginia Colony — and his wife, who was childless, had taken a great fancy to the boy. Sir William was not long in making up his mind. He sounded the parties, and discovered that they would willingly adopt the child as their ovm, and take charge of his future. The bar- gain was soon agreed upon, and when Mr. Falconbridge mailed for Virginia, he took my son with him, as his own child, and bearing his name. "Thus had crime reached its punishment. This man who had inflicted upon me such a cruel vengeance, was as cruelly wounded himseK. He loved the boy dearly, and was compelled to part with him. He continued in England, dependent upon the bounty of his son — but after some years even this was denied him. Arthur died, and his wife followed him. The family had subsisted upon the salary of a county office which the young man held : and thus Sir William found himself without means of support, with a further cause of disquiet and apprehension. Arthur had left a little daughter. You know her, under the name of Cannie Powell. This daughter the poor man came to love with a doting affection ; and to reai her in a manner suitable to her origin and rank now became the most cher- ished desire of her grandfather. Without means of doing 80 in the Old World, Sh- WiUiam came to the New. He crossed the ocean, and settled upon a small tract of land on lilt shores of the Chesapeake ; and thence came here to th% 800 FAIRFAX; PR, mountains, for the health of his granddaughter. Soon sdiet his arriyal, he discovered a mine of silver and g )ld, and in working this mine, impelled by the desire of amassing money for his child, he secured that reputation for witch- craft, which ended in his arrest and trial. He had frequent ly seen his grandson, young Falconbridge, in the Lowland, but shame had prevented him fi^om revealing their connec- tion, and even from making his acquaintance, as a stranger. Assured of the fact that the elder Falconbridge loved the young man, and regarded him as his son, he yielded to the bard fate which kept them asunder, and dedicated his life to httle Cannie. When I came to Green way, a year or two since. Sir William was residing in the mountain. Why I emigrated to America, you doubtless know. Stripped of Denton, and longing for new scenes, I came hither, and fcook possession of my projjerty, like Leeds Castle, derived from Lord Culpeper through my mother. I never met Sir William, though I often hunted in the Fort Mountain — and a strange Providence threw us, for the first time, face to face, in the attitude of criminal and judge. By the side of the old man I saw my son, and my son's cousin ; his grand- children, both ; and all strikingly alike. The strange resemblance which Falconbridge, as I shall call him stUl, bore to Ai'thur and Edith, impressed me powerfully on our first meeting, and one night, when he slept here, I stole at midnight to his chamber, led thither by an impulse which I could not resist. "You know all, now, Captain Wagner. I have related my whole life. You are acquainted with the events which have occurred since the young man's visit fo this region ; I scarce dare to refer to them. An inscrutable Providence decreed that father and son should be rivals, in a mad infat- uation for a woman ; that they should oppose each other Bword in hand ; that they should shed each other's bloody though God be thanked, not to the death I The man whosi ftct placed us in thi£ imiaturAl aititudei revealed all beloz^ THE MASTER OF Ct^tEENWAf OOUBT. 801 it was t*^o late. In our interriew on the mountain, he con- fessed his crime, and prayed me in a trembling voice to forgive him. He had delivered, some tin d before, a package to the youth for me, containing the whole explanation, which was strangely lost. But at least it came in time. No power can now arm us again, I shall never look more upon the woman whom my boy loves ; I will warn him against her, for I feel thai she is false and dangerous. " That is all. Captain," said the Earl, raising his head, and sighing deeply, but no longer with the old painful expression. "I have related a strange history — 'tis such, is it not? — and you have listened as friend listens to friend. The narrative has been a singular relief to me ; I feel light-hearted almost. I end by a serious and earnest petiiioii. I impo&^ upon you a duty which I know you will gladly perform. In the scenes of danger which my boy is about to enter, watch over his life, and bring him back safe to me. On the day of his return I will tell him that his name is not Falcon- bridge ; that his blood is my blood ; that I thank the Supreme Lord of this world, and all worlds, that Edmund Lord Fairfax, tie seventh of the name, and Baron of Cam- eron in the kingdom of Scotland, for such will be my boy, — is better than a mere noble, better than the greatest lord — a noble and true hearted gentleman 1" The face of the glad father glowed as he spoke, and hia form rose erect, with a pride and happiness which is inde- scribable. "Yes, Captain!" said the Earl, with flushed cheeks, and briUiant eyes, " yes, Falconbridge is a gentleman every inch of him 1 a nobleman by God's patent, as by the king's 1 In his presence, as I gazed at him, and Ustened to his voice, I have said, " This is a chevaHer of old days i*' In his per- suasive tones, in his clear, ttank eyes, in his Hps, in hi* whole bearing, in his rage, as wJien he smiled, I have seen the great soul of the boy, the pure gold of his nature I 1 bftTt thrilled with a nameless delight^ when he spoke ; I 802 AIBFAX ; O&y have gazed with Tionging into his deep, tme eyes . bsTi said, * What pride must this youth's father feel !* and yon may understand now the emotion which I experience when I can add, * This is my son/ The Earl was silent, and Captain Wagner did not imme- diately reply. Leaning his head upon his huge hand, he reflected with absorbing interest upon the remarkable history which he had just heard. He remained thus absent and buried in thought, for a long time after the Earl ceased speaking. Then he raised his head, and uttered the characteristic words : " Tes, a trump, or the devil take it 1'* The Earl smiled at the sonorous voice of the worthy soldier, and said : "You mean my son?" " Tes, my lord. And I beg you to observe one fact — that when I say a man's a trump, I mean the trump of hearts, that being the finest card, to my thinking, in the pack. I have always regarded your lordship as a man of discrim- ination ; I think so now more than ever, or I'm a dandy Yes, this Falconbridge is truly a gentleman, and that's better, as you say, than being a nobleman. I am not myse¥ a gentleman — don't be waving your hand, my dear friend — I would have been, with training, if that satisfies you. I think in fact that a real marquis was spoiled when Cap- tain Julius Wagner took to the border. Nevertheless, in spite of this unfortunate state of things, I am acquainted with the article, and recognize it. I say Ealoonbridge is made of real gold ! Let me hear anybody deny it I 111 shce 'eml Zounds I my lord! I loved him at first sight I I couldn't keep my eyes off that proud-Jooking face of his — and when he dangled after that woman, I nearly cried 1 From the first, this young fellow bossed Wagner, or I'm a dandy 1 I am fond of your lordship, but I honestly declare ^hat yonder on the Fort Mountain, I hoped he'd make a liole in your ooat — that is to say — Hum I rather than be THB ULASTfiE OF GBEEKWAT COtJBT. 801 drilled himself 1 Friendly, that, eh, my lord? Bnt it's Inie. It will show you how that boy has wrapped himself around my old heart : I growl Hke a miserable ^Id bear^ when he groans — he's as much my son as your lordship's I'^ The Captain accompanied the words by a blow upon the table with his fist. " There, there," he said more calmly, " Fve made a fool of myself — if I haven't done a disgraceful piece of courting, The fact is, my lord, I wan't a manor on the Opequon, and it occurred to me that this was the way to get around you, I have no sort of liking for this lofty headed youngster, but I praise him, you see, to arrive at my own ends. Is the Eedbud Manor' stiU unoccupied, my lord?" And the Captain gazed with a look of earnest inquiry into the countenance of Lord Fairfax. The Earl smiled. It was a happy smile — no longer grim and melancholy, as on former occasions. " You are a bungling courtier, Captain Wagner," he said, and I predict will never become a very distinguished di- plomatist. But I'll make a contract with you. Bring my boy back safely, and I'll make you a deed to twice as many acres as the ' Eedbud ' tract. Is it a bargain ?" " No, my lord," returned the Captain, " it is nothing ol the sort. Th 6 fact is, the * Eedbud ' land is miserably bar- ren — not half equal to my wife's property which joins it No, your lordship, and at present Captain Wagner is talking seriously — ^by the book — I'll receive no pay, for looking after the youngster, any more than I would for guarding Julius, Lord Wagner, the second of the name and Baron of Win- chester in the Kingdom of Yirginia ! I'll be by him, and keep the balls off him — ^if I don't I'm a dandy ! And so that's all. Let me now go and carry out my other promise . — that of bringing Lord Fairfax, the younger, to Green way. The sun is getting low, and it is time to be on the road. Tonr lordship wishes him to come sleep here ?" "Tes^ Oa{)tam. You will pardon the weakness of a fatlioi 804 FAIRrAX; OB, whose son is going on a perilous expeditioti to-morm^ 1 would see him once more." " Eight, right ! I've had boys itiyself , and I know whak that means ; you want to have the youngster here dose to you." The Earl smiled and inclined. " It is one of my chief happinesses in this lonely region to have by my side a friend like yourself, Captain, who under- stands me. Go then — 'tis another obligation stilL" " Stop that talking, my lord. JuHus Wagner's a good fellow, but no such great things after aU. I'll go bring him — whether he wants to come ot not — or I'm a dandy I" With which words, the Borderer issued forth, and moutii- ing Injunhater, hastened to the Ordinary. Two hoilrs af- terwards, Falconbridge, as we shall continue to call him, was seated in the great, apartment at Greenway, conversing with George, the Earl and the Captain. TUB MiSTSB Of OIBI^^AI OOVm 80H Lm THE 001!rEi:iAGRA.TI0K. E miglit pause here to note the strange and mc r ing attitudes which some of the personages ol our narrative sustained toward each other. We might exhibit the good Earl in the presence oi his son, listening with smiles as the young man talks: — or returning to the day when Falconbridge visited the Fort Mountain, we might dwell on the secret attraction which he felt to ward his Httle cousin, and the sympathetic affection of child in return. "We might dedicate some pages to this series of reflections, but it is not necessary. It is well that such is the fact. Our narrative is not ended. It must depict more than one additional scene of passion before it concludes. The hours are even now descending upon the actors in the valley and the mountain, at the Ordinary, and Greenway. For a long time the occupants of the old border mansion continued to converse upon a variety of topics. Falcon- bridge was gloomy and the victim evidently of an incurable W.dness — ^but he no longer cherished any ill-will toward the EarL It is true, he stiU wondered at the scene in the Fort, and vainly racked his brain to account for the action of Lord Fairfax: but a more absorbing thought filled his agi- tated mind; the terrible secret which had been revealed to him by Mr. ArgaL He looked older. His countenance, which before had been the model of youthful beauty, began to shrink away, and present the traits of age. His cheeks were hollow, his eyes dim — ^hiB lips were filled with inexpressib'e sorrow ; or wort 6oe rAlEFAX; OB, a smile of such madness that the Earl was moT6d almoit to tears as he gazecL As the hours drew on, however, something of this gloom disappeared. Captain Wagner dn-ected the conversation tovfard the events of the morrow — the march on the Indiana — the fated struggle. Then Falconbridge aroused himself. His eyes glowed, his cheek flushed — when the soldier drew a picture of the murdered women and children, the face of the young man became menacing and dark — ^the war fever began to replace the sombre brooding. G3orge never moved his eyes for a moment from Falcon* bridge. The youth seemed to be drawn to him by an irresist- <.ble attraction. The manly eyes of the boy uttered plainly the emotions of his heart — the deep affection which he felt toward the other. Indeed, this feeling amounted to a pas- sion almost; and if, amid the advanciug scenes of our narra- tive, we have not paused to dwell upon this beautiful friend- diip, it was not because it did not possess aU the elements Df an exquisite picture. From the first day of their meeting, ihese two natm^es had embraced each other. Heart spokft io heart, with the frankness and sincerity which spring from Qobihty of soul. With the elder it was a sentiment of affec- tion, almost tenderness — with George not only that: ho looked up to his friend as to one who should be taken as a model — as to his superior, and bright exemplar in all hhings. Long afterwards, when a new world had risen from the ruins of the old — when a long stormy life had thrown the youth into contact with aU varieties of excellence and no- bility and moral grandeur — ^when, a gray-haired man, George retui*nod to this region — he gazed on the scenes amid which his friend had once moved ; and said with a sigh, which sounded strangely fi-om him, " There never was another hu- man beiug like him !" So the long hours fled away into the lartness of the past'-and at night the occupants at Greenway retired* II THE MAOTEB OP OREENWAT X>TJB11. Wt was the last time they ever met, all together in the old aparV ment. In an hour they were sliimberirg fuietly — ^but they were destined to be awakened. Palconbridge was sleeping as tranquilly as an infant, when suddenly he felt a violent grasp on his arm, and the voice of Ciiptain Wagner thundered: " Wake, comrade 1 They're on us at last 1" The young man sprang from his couch and rapidly dressed himself without speaking. George, who slept in the same room, did the same. " They're on us, or the devil fly away with it !'* cried th« Captain ; " come, hurry ! His lordship's waiting by this time. I sent the messenger to his room!" " The messenger ?" asked Falconbridge, coolly. "Yesl Just look out and you'll see what news he brought r As he spoke, the Captain raised the curtain of the window and pointed to the west. Above the belt of forest soared a tongue of Jame, and the country was illuminated for milea by a great conflagration. "The Oidinary!" said George. "Yes, the Ordinary! By the horns of the devil! Ton are right I Come, friends ! There's not a moment to lose 1" And the Captain huiried down to the large apartment where, while sleeping as his wont was on one of the couches, the messenger from the tavern had aroused him. Lord Fairfax was already dressed, and speaking rapidly eo the man who had brought the intelUgence. George and Falconbridge entered, as he was doing so. The news was quickly communicated to all. The band of Indians who had made a feint of directing their march to- ward the Potomac, did sc only to mask their real plan. They had turned back suddenly and descended upon Wm- cheater, and the Greenway Court manor, burning and mur- dering as they went They ha>d come thnv, dnly to the iBi filBVAZ; 0B, aeighborlioocl of the Ordinary, and at onc« froaeeded Id attack tliat mansion. Tiie occupants could make little or no resistance — the savages had taken the place and set it on fire an hour before. The fat landlord, Van Doring, had been kiiled on his threshold — every servant but the one who related these events had fallen victims to the assailant«| and the savages had finally hastened away, in a southern direction, carrying with them as prisoners, Mrs. Butterton, Monsieur Jambot and Major Hasty luck, who had slept at the tavern — as beasts of biu'den to bear the plunder on their shoulders. The Captain bounded again as he heard this, and growled rather than said: " To horse 1" With which words he rushed from the apartment In ten miniites every one was mounted, and a hurried consultation was held as to the propriety of leaving Green way undefend- ed. "They're gone southwest ! I know *em," growled Cap- tain Wagner ; " the attack on us here would have been made before this if they had not been afraid that the house was regularly garrisoned I" The servp^nt who had brought the intelligence corrobo- rated this view, and stated that he had heard the Indians dis- cuss, in broken English, the question of attacking Green- way. They had given up the idea, upon the identical grounds mentioned by the Captain — and had hastened tow- ard the south, leaving him tied in the burning house, froia which he had managed, however, to escape. This settled all doubt: and in a moment the four mra were spuriing rapidly to the scene of the catastrophe. A horrible spectacle awaited them. The mansion wa« wrapt in flames, and in front were lying no less than mx dead bodies, among whom was seen the portly form of Mynheer Van Doring, scalped and bleeding from man; Mortal oonda A sight if anything more terrible wai pre- TRB MASTEB 07 GKEENWAY OOUBT. 80t iented a few paces off. Several infant children, belonging to the dead servants of the establishment, were hanging in trees, transfixed with arrows. The Indians had evidently perpetrated this shocking tragedy in sport; and while the Earl and his companions were gazing at the contorted forms, another barbarity still was revealed. The stable of the Ordinary was burning like the mansion, and the cries of acme cattle and sheep which were shut in, made the night hideous to the listeners.* The first act of the party was to drag the dead bodies out of the flames, and liberate the cattle which went bellow- ing with terror into the forest. Then the Captain leaped into the saddle and cast a rapid glance around him. A number of settlers, for the most part hunters, had assem- bled, attracted from their homes by the flames of the bum- ing mansion. To these the Borderer, who seemed on fire with rage, addressed himself in quick, brief words. His directions were succinct and simple. They were to disperse in all quarters and arouse the inhabitants — the men would meet at the " Three Oaks," near the house of Sir. Aaigal — a point in the prairie which every settler was acquainted with. He himself would spend the night in scouring the country. The various parties would assemble at daybreak, or sunrise at the latest. These directions were rapidly obeyed. The hunters dis- persed and hurried away, disappearing with long strides in the gathering darkness. ♦ *• The Indians dragged the dead body back to the house, threw it in, phmdered the honse of what they chose, and then set fire to it While the house was in flames OOBBuming the body of Mr. Painter, they forced from the arms of their mothers, four in- fant children, hung them up in trees, shot thejn in savage sport, and left them hanging. They then set fire to a stable in which were inclosed a parcel of sheep and calves, thus orrelly and wantonly torturing to death the dumb animals. After these atrocities, Ihey moved off with forty-eight prisoners, among whom were Mrs. Painter, five oi her daughters and oi?e of her sons: a Mrs. Smith and several of her children, among them a lad of twelve or thii-teen years old, a ^e, weJl grown boy, and roniarkabiy fleshy. This Uttle fellow, it will presertly ne seen, was destined to be the victim U mrsLge cruelty One of the Painters, "yith Myer, r&a. over that nig^*" I0 CIO VAIBFAX; 0B| " Now friends !" said Captain Wagner to tlie Earl and hii companions, " let every man imitate me. There's no time for ceremony I I could bite off my head for this hoggish stupidity of mine I I trusted that fellow who brought me the news that the band had gone back, and would slay him where he stood if he were here 1 To work ! I will go and bring the boys from Winchester, where they were to assem- ble to-day — for days coming. Go arm, gentlemen I arm; this is only the beginning of the sight you're going to see I" And saluting, the Borderer put spur to his huge animal, and took the road to Winchester at a thundering gallop. " I will return to Greenway Court, gentlemen," said the Earl, with his old grim expression, " I will send all my ser- vants in every direction — and then join you at the * Three Oaks ' at daybreak." With these words he left the room and soon disappeared like the Captain, at a rapid gallop. George and Palconbridge looked at each other. The same thought had occurred to them at the same instant. The Indians had gone southward — ^in the direction of Mr. Argal's — in the direction of the Port Mountain 1 No word was uttered: a simultaneous movement of the head— the spur in the sides of the horses — and they separ ftted and were lost in the darkness. THX MABTEB OF aBSfilTWAT OOOM. Sll L7IIL THB SEABOH. ALCONBEIDGE j)ushed bis si)iiited animal imtij the courser rather bounded than ran. The great trees flitted by like spectres; thu prairie glimmered, and fled behind him; dart- ing onward like some phantom of the German poets, he re- sembled rather the wild image of a feverish dream, than a real man of flesh and blood. A terrible dread had seized upon him. The Indians liad gone directly toward Mr. Ajcgal's. She was slain perhaps- even now she might be weltering in her blood ! That ten- der and beautiful face might be gashed by the tomahawk — the scalping-knite might have encircled the white temples, — and the mass of raven curls which he had often twined around his fingers might be hanging at the belt of a savage I The thought maddened him almost, and he felt, with something like a dreadful shadder, that he loved this woman BtilL All the nobility and pity of his high nature was aroused She had trifled with him jperhaps — she had played with his deep love — ^but after all, she was a woman, a weak woman 1 She was even more than that ! She was a poor feeble girl, smitten by the hand of the Almighty, and irresponsible! Could he think of her lying in her blood on the threshold, and turn away coldly with the thought, " She has deceived me — I care nothing ?*' No, that was not possible. She was sacred to Lim stal— all was ended between them. His life was a bauble ; ol no value ; he cared naught for it ? he would fulfill thai \ promise which he had made to her father. He would still guard her from harm, and if necessary, die for her. i He fled on more rapidly. Sir John panted, and the foam ] flew from his jaws. Then suddenly the house rose in the j darkness. | All was silent. The young man leaped to the ground and I rushed in. Am he entered he stumbled and almost fell over a dead : body. An awful shudder convulsed him. He scarcely ! dared to look down. Leaning for an instant against the j framework of the door, a sort of mist passed before him, j and he shook from head to foot. Then he summoned all 1 his strength, and knelt down, passing his trembling hand | over the figure. It was a woman, but not the form of her ! he sought. A deep breath filled the bosom of the youjag | man as he rose erect. Stepping over the corpse of the servant, he hastened in, and going to the fire-place, struck a ' light. The apartment was all at once illuminated. An ' awful spectacle presented itself. I All around lay the corpses of the servants of the establish' ■ ment, in attitudes of indescribable agony, as they had died. ' The room was rifled, the furniture broken. On more than \ one object was a bloody stain which indicated a desperate struggle. This, however, was the least of the spectacle. There was another element— an object, or rather five objects which sent the blood to his breast, and made him turn sick I with horror. 'lo tbe four corners of the room were affixed, by knives driven through them into the wall, the quartered body of j Mr. ArgaL On the summit of a stake which leaned against the mantel-piece, the bleeding head of the unhappy man ^ looked, with a ghastly grin upon the features, at the in- , truder.* ' ^ ** Hie remaining two " Indiana, ** reBolved not to giw% up their preff feoBd il mmrnxf to prooMd more oMitioualr ; and goiiic to tiM UuMt AxpoMd ikii «f Ite hcwM% MA8TEB OF GBEEKWAY COUM. tit The young man recoiled before the terrible sight, step by itep, until he touched the opposite wall He seemed en- deayoring to fly from the grinning mouth, the lack-lustr« eyes. Then suddenly he remembered the object of his visit, which had disappeared from his mind for an instant. Her figure was not among the corpses on the floor — was it else* where ? With the flaring light raised above his head, he ijushed through the house from top to bottom — with clenched teeth — ^breathing heavily — searching for what he dared not to think of. It was not visible. Then she too had been carried away prisoner — every moment that he tarried^ increased the dis- tance between them. Hurryiag back to the main room, he passed through it with averted head and shuddering limbs. Stepping over the dead body of the woman at the threshold, he ground the light beneath his heel, and leaving the ac- cursed mansion with its horrors to darkness and silence, leaped into the saddle and darted off in the direction of the "Three Oaks." one was raised upon the shoulders of the otlier to an opening in the logs, some AJ«- to&oe above the level of Mr. Williams, who did not consequently observe the xnanoeo. rre, from which he fired and shot Mr. Williams dead. The body was Instanti^r qtutfw leied and hung to the four comers of the building, and the head 8tu<* upon a f&oc§ •lake in front of the door. This brave man was the father of th» v wiO ' '»t4g Md^ «ar«f ^Ulkma, the derk at fiardy Oonnty OourL"— ExBOBSTax*. tl4 FAIRFAX: OB. AT THB HOUSE IN THE MOUITTAXV. E0Rc3^E liad meanwhile directed his conrsa as »• pidly as Falconbridge toward the Fort Mountain, The same terrible fear made his heart turn cold, and his temples throb with fever. His imagina- tion also made a picture for itself — the form of a young girl stretched dead upon the ground, all mangled, and bloody from the blows of the savages. They spared no age or sex — Whence they could not have passed over Cannie, if they had gone, as they probably had done, to the Fort Mountain. The child whom he loved more than he loved his life, was dead — she would smile for him no more — all his future was to be darkness and despair. With a quivering lip, and eyes moist yet fiery, George fled across the prairie at a desperate pace, driving the spur, cru- elly, into the sides of his animal. More than once the horse stumbled and nearly feJl in the taU grass, but a powerful lift of the bridle held him up ; — again he fled onward, like the shadow of a darting bird across the wide expanse, toward the river. The stream waas reached, and soon crossed. Into the frowning gorge, up the winding ♦•oad, over rocks tmd fallen trees which the animal cleared bound after bound, the boy rushed on. His horse reaicfi and almost fell at the door of the mouH'- tain dwelling- -the ascent hvxl been cruelly exhausting, George entered. An old servant was holding Mr. Powdl la luui arms» and staunching a deep wound in hii tempi*. THE MASTER OF GBE^NWAY COUBT. 815 The old man was insensible — the servant was groaning and uttering exclamations. It was some time before George could extort anything from the servant, who only cried, " such a sountry ! such a country I Oh ! for England again I" At last ne was mastered by the stem tone and resolute eommand in George's voice— he related what had happened. An hour before, the Indians, in large numbers, had sur- prised the dwelling, and carried olT Cannie. His master had fought desperately, bat was soon overpowered — a blow from a tomahawk had struck him dov/n. Then the house had been rifled, and the band hurried away, right over the summit of ihts mountain. " And vvhere were you ?'* thundered the youth, in a tone which made the servant quake; * 'cowardly wretch ! Why are you aUve, to speak to me — when your mistress is a pris- oner of the Indians The truth soon came out. The servant had fled into the woods, and returned only when, from his hiding-place, he saw the band depart. As he finished his reluctant explanation, the old man opened hi» eyes, and looked vaguely around. " George," he murmured, " where is Cannie ?" And with a violent movement he strove to rise to his feet. " Sit stiU, Sir William I there, sit still !" said the servant, holding him. " What have yon done with my child ?" cried the old man flushing to the temples, and speaking in a tone of such terri- ble anguish that it made the hearers tremble; where is my child ? Bring her hither 1" He resembled a Hon at bay as he thus spoke, with glaring eyes ; but his strength suddenly failed him. The blood gushed from the deep woimd; and stretching his axms out wildly he exclaimed, as he fell fainting: "My child 1 my child r Gkozge's faoe had turned so pale that it frightened the FAIBFAX; OB, serrant and made him recoil. His teeth were olenebed, a2idl his eyes burned with a steady and meaning flame, whlth in- dicated the depth to which his nature was aroused. No one would have recognized in the man of resolute coldness, who stood gazing at the inanimate form, the gay and smiling boy which he had always appeared to be. George was passing through that ordeax which tempers the meucJ, and makes the soul steel for the real struggles of life. Take care of your master, and bind up his wound," he said hoarsely, " I leave him in your charge. K he asks for his daughter, or for me, when he revives, say I told you I had gone to bring her back or to die with her 1 Remem- ber 1" And lec*ving tbe room, he mounted his panting animal and pushed dovvn the steep decKvity as he had ascended. The gorge was passed — the river crossed — through the prairie, which began to gUmmer in the first Hght of daybreak, he rapiiUy advanced toward the ** Three Oaks.'* Many settlers had assembled, and others were approach- ing from every quarter. Above the crowd, motionless as a statue, on his white horse, the form of Palconbridge rose clearly against the sky. From the north. Captain Wagner, followed by a number of hunters, approached at a tremendous gallop. TEB HAfiTEB OF GBSENWAT COXJVL BIT OHAFTER JJL THB DEYXL's garden* T is the evening succeeding the scenes whick hati jafst been related. The sun is near its setting. A stream of crimson light, as red as blood bathes the Yh-Uerys and mountains, coloring tree trunks, and mossy rocks »nd flowing streams, with its ruddy splen- dor. As the day declines, the deep flush ascends the trees, and creeps up the precipices — with a stealthy crawl, like some Tariegated wild animal, disappearing in the depths of the gorges. Finally it raises the golden crown from the top of the Blue Kidge — fades from the pines of the wave-like Massinut- ton, and lingers for an instarit on the Great North Mountain, and those serried ranges which extend, like the huge ribs of •erne prostrate giant, through the region which ia watered bjr Lost Kiver. One pinnacle only at last remains iUuminai^d. It raises its mighty head abruptly from the valley, at a point not many miles south of the spot where Lost Eiver sinks and disappears at the base of the mountain, which vainly seeks to bar its advance. There is something no less curious than majestic abool this vast pile, which is appropriately styled, by onw who has described it, a " truly wonderful work of Nature." Between two ranges of the bristling mountain, a strip of ffonnd. about half a mile wid«. 818 FAIBPAX; OR, the head of " Trout Run," and continues to mount gradually for the distance of three miles. Then it suddenly termi- nates in a dizzy precipice — a vast Titanic pile of dark granite^ such as the giants who warred against the gods might Iolslyq heaped up as a memorial of one of their slain brethren4 The immense mass is entirely separate from the surround- ing mountains — yawning chasms upon each hand present an impassable gulf — in front the precipice descends as straight as an arrc^ to the depth of five hundred feet. The details of this singular natural wonder, are no lesa striking than the object itself. A portion of the summit is covered with flat rocks, form ing a aatural pavement — interrupted here and there by fis* sures, — and on the eastern edge stands a gigantic bust in granite — the head, neck and shoulders, clearly defined: — the whole presenting to the eye " a frowning and terrific ap- pearance." Near this figure, which gives its name to the peak, formerly stood a granite pillar, ten or twelve feet high — ^two or more feet in diameter, and four-square. This pil • lar has been broken from base by some convulsion of the earth or the elements, and declines in the form of an arch across one of the fissures of whioh we have spoken. This is the summit. But the strange details of the peal? are not exhausted. About a hundred feet below the base of the statue a door leads into deep caverns in the rock. After leavmg the entrance, the explorer finds himself in an apart- ment with level floor and ceiling- from which a flight oi stone steps ascend to another still larger. In like manner twelve flights of steps give access to twelve apartments — the last of which is just beneath the pavemeiit of the summit, and is lighted by one of the fissures already described.* Such is "The Devil's Garden." And to this wild scene we now beg the reader to accompany us. For a time no living thing is seen, except some huge eagle, sailing by on broad wings, above Lost Biver, a flying fallow * Hie dMorlptUm of this ringnlMr piAo« li tnAiea, almoct word for word, from Korok^ THE MASTEK OF GREENWAT OCtJBT 819 ] Aeer^ or % bear, slowly shaking his black head, and ranish- j ing in tiie tangled thickets of the mountain side. The sun slowly sinks, and his last beams linger on the ' weird-looking statue, and the vast mass of piled up granite , which soars above. The wild scene, with its billowy ranges, and glimmering \ torrents grows wilder — the denizens of the night begin to j wake in their lairs and prowl abroad to seek tlieir prey — j over the immense horizon, all bristling with jagged peaks j and precipices, the solemn grandeur, and rude magnificence i slowly yield to a brooding gloom, — the scene is an over ; turned world, convulsed and shattered — the very geniue ol j desolation descends and reigns, on his blood-red throne of \ mountains. ' The blazing shield at last sinks beneath the horizon, and ; night stretches its broad pall, prepared to throw it over the ; whole. At this momont a slight rustling might have been heard ; at the entrance to the caverns, on the declivity of the peak, \ and a swarthy face appeared at the opening, followed ere ; long by a strange and repulsive-looking figure, wL'<3h re- ; maiEied for & feyoae motionless in the gathering glooa. MO VUBTiX. OB. CHAPTER LXL ^HE figure which thus obtruded itself af on Um wild scene, belonged apparently to no nation or class, if, indeed, to the race of human beings I It was neverth^ess possessed of a revolting in- terest, and a lover of the horrible and picturesque united would have feasted his eyes upon the animal He was a half-breed, about five feet high, with a deep yel- low, or sallow complexion, a gigantic breadth of chest, long monkey-like arms, and legs which resembled the crooked and gnarled boughs of a distorted oak. His forehead waa scarcely an inch in height; his small eyes, as cunning and cruel as a serpent's, rolled beneath bushy brows; his nose was crooked like a hawk's biU, and the hideous mouth, stretching almost from ear to ear, was disfigured with pro- trading tusks like those of a wild boar. The haK-breed waa dad 8A an Indian, with doeskin leggins and breeches, but hi^ rugged chest and shoulders were bare. His enormous flat feet were cased in huge moccasins; and in his belt he carried a knife, a horseman's pistol, and a tomahawk, to the nnwiped edge of which still clung a quantity of bloody hu- man hair. Such was the figure which now cautiously emerged from the cavern, and cast a keen and searching glance upon the panorama of forest, mountain and river. This look seemed to plunge into the obscurest depths of the gorges, beneath the heaviest foliage, and to descry every object within the TMiffe of human visioiL VBM UkBTBR OF 0EEEHWAT OOXTKS. &%l " AD's safe bo far !'* muttered the half-breed in a guttural and discordant voice, with a slight French accent ; " thef have either not followed us, or the trick has deceived them. We may lay low here a day or two safely, until the alarm has blown over — ^then to work again 1" As he spoke, with a sneering and horrible smile, a light hand was laid upon his shoulder. He started and turned guddenly, haK drawing his long knife. Then at sight ol the intruder on his reverie, he returned the weapon slowly, as if against his will, to its place, and said sullenly, with an unconscious scowl, full of hatred and menace : " What does the son of War Eagle want with me ?" " I would speak to the TeUow Serpent," said a grave, col- lected voice in the Indian tongue ; '*the day is done, and the hour has come for talking." With these words the young Indian, Lightfoot, who was the intruder, leaned back against the rock, and fixed his eyes upon the threatening countonance of his companion. Lightfoot was clad as we have seen him on a former oc- casion. His slender but nervous limbs, with their rounded but clearly defined muscles, were cased in pliant doeskin ; his narrow feet, with the lofty, instep, based themselves firmly on the crag ; above his forehead waved the variegated plume which indicated his chiefship. There was the same calm air of grave, almost melancholy dignity — the same clear yet mild expression in the eyes ; as before, his figure, and attitmde, and whole bearing were characterized by the simple and exquisite grace of a nobleman of the great for- ests. "And what does Lightfoot come to say? — talk it out 1" saidf the discordant voice, which attempted to assume an accenl of friendly interest ; '* the time is passing, and much must be done.* "WUl the serpent return to the war-path again?** said lightfoot as before in the Indian tongue — then, with a sud* den change in his expression, from gravity to scorn, he ad« 822 OB, ded, * but there is no war traU 1 The braves are on th« path to the cabins of women and childen. The white war- riors are away, and the Catawbas creep over the fences in the night — ^they are rabbits, not panthers !" And the lip of the Indian curled. His words produced a strong effect on the half-breed. The snake-like eye flashed fire, and with a guttural sound like the growl of a wild an- imal, he laid his hand on his knife, and seemed about to throw himself upon the speaker. The young Indian did not move a muscle, or remove his scornful eyes from the face of his companion. With a movement wholly simple and unostentatious, he rested his hand on the hilt of a long poniard in his belt, and contin- ued to gaze at the other. "Does Lightfoot know what he is saying?" said th« half-breed, growling and letting his hand falL " Yes, the truth," was the reply. "/am one of these Catawbas." " I know that you are." " And you teU me to my face I am a rabbit: you dare " I dare 1" said Lightfoot, with superb scorn, " it is little to dare !" Again the hand of the Yellow Serpent wandered to his weapon: but he seemed to want courage to attack his ad- versary. A glance at the precipice near which they were standing — a glance as rapid as lightning, and fuU of horri- ble menace — betrayed the thought which passed through his mind. But it was not carried kito act. The young man seemed to exert a singular iafluence over him — he evidently hated him bitterly, but he cowered almost before his eye, and yielded in the contest. The threatening scowl disap- peared : the hand fell again: with a grin which was even more repulsive than the frown, he said, in a wheedhng and izisinuating voice : " Lightfoot is bold and outspoken as he has always been o-HUi his great father was before him, tov whom twelve tribes TSB MASTEB OF GBEENWAI COUBT* Sit mourned "vrhen the blood ran out of Ma brave bosom. Biii let the Yellow Serpent give Liglitfoot a piece of advice^ These words are dangerous, and the warriors would want t€ kill him. They are nothing to the Serpent. He is a half- breed, and knows more than the redfaces. He is Light foot's friend and would serve him/' " Yellow Serpent," said the young Indian, returning U his cahn expression, " do you beheve in the Great Spirit f ' The half-breed grinned and repKed: " I beheve in the Great Evil Spirit — ^what the palefaces eftll the Devil — ^for he talks to me, and tells me what to do.* I beheve that, Serpeiit. But there is a good Spirit, too^ and he is the bad Spirit's master.'* The half-breed shook his head. " Are you certain of that, Lightfoot ?** " I am certain. It is Manitou — ^the great and good. The Dove of the Mountain told me this long ago.*' " Ah I ah I the Dove of the Mountain !" was the grinning and sneering reply ; " you are a friend of the Dove i" I am. She has made me better. I am evil, but not so much as I was." " It is a pity that the tribe took her prisoner. But whal about the Great Spirit ?" " I would ask if you think you do right. Yellow Serpent when you put to death women and children ?" "They are whites," said the half-breed with very great surprise; "you see we strangle the brood when they are young, to get rid of them." "You are cowards! Yes, lache I lacheT said the young Indian with sudden vehemence, and using a term which he had derived from the French allies of the savages, " lache t You are a dog. Yellow Serpent 1 But, no, not even dogi would be so cowardly !" And the young Indian's eyes were terrible for their depth of indignation. The half-breed cowered before him, and dexed not speak. He seemed to want nerre. With a dark 824 7AIEFAX; OB, ficowl, which had in it something tragic and dangercoB from its subtlety, and veiled menace, he muttered : Lightfoot is a great sagamore. The Serpent is not aa noble as he is. Let Lightfoot speak." " Listen, then, Yellow Serpent,'' said the Lidian, stretch- ing out his hand, and speaking in a voice of such nobility and solemn earnestness that the furious and shuddering half-breed was subdued by its very tones: " Usten, Serpent, and pay attention to what I am about to say. Li this world are two tribes of men — ^they are the evil and the good. There is but one master over all, the Great Spirit. The Evil One is his slave, but is not chaiued. It is his business to make the tribes commit evil; and even now he is in your heart, though you do not see him. But the Good Spirit is not idle, or indifferent to the happiness of his creatures. He is yonder in the clouds looking down, and watching. He speaks in the thunder of the mountains — the Hghtning is the flash of his eye; his finger marks the track of the rivers; he is the Father of this world and its people. Not a tribe roams the forest, from the a%nd hills of the mighty lakes, to the Big Water of the Sonfe— from the Minnehaha to the land of Shawandasee — ^which is not beneath his eye. He sends to all, the bright seasons, the moon of strawberries, and the moon of cohonks ; — mondamiu grows for all, and plenty crowns the feasts of all the mighty tribes of the beautiful world. But iix these tribes there are some whom the Master of Life looks on with smiles — there are others upon whom he frowns. He frowns on the bad, on the cruel, on the oppressors of the weak, on the slayers of women and children ? Once these evil people made him angry, and the sea swept over them — but the land was repeopled; then they grew as evil as before. The Master sent his son to heal the sick ones, and to make men pure again. They nailed him on a cross, and killed him ! But before he died he told them many things, and among the rest he said, *Let the children come to me — the Master loves them, and his land is ^ill ol THE HASTEB OF GBEENWAT OOUBTL SS6 them* He lo\ed them because they were weak and helplesf — and he told the tribes, not the redfaces only, but all, to love each other, and forgive even their enemies. The Mas- ter said that 1 And now what are you doing, Yellow Ser^ pent? You are killing the women and the children who never wronged you ; you are not even acting like a warrior, and meeting the palefaced braves in battle, — ^you are lache ! lache ! You have said rightly ! The Evil Spirit whispers in your ear, and sets you to do his work 1 You are his slave, Yellow Serpent." And the young Indian, with a cold and collected air, leaned back against the rock from which he had half risen in the ardor of his address. His words seemed to affect the half-breed strangely. A sullen and gloomy expression came to his hideous features, and he cowered, almost. The young chief plainly exercised % singular dominion over the monster. Then this sullen air disappeared— a flash of concealed hatred darted from his eyes — lastly, the former crafty and insinuating griu sue* ceeded. " Lightfoot is a great brave,** he said; the Serpent can- not talk with the son of War Eagle. I think I will tell the tribe what he says, and in future they shall spare the women and children of the pale-faces, whom Lightfoot loves better than his own tribe. Oh, yes 1 we will not kiU any more !** The Indian shook his head. " Yellow Serpent," he said, " I know you very weU, and I do not trust you. The word of a brave is his word — ^yoors is the word of a half-breed. You hate me, and are envious of me, because when we rise at the same moment to speak to the tribe, the warriors say, * Let us hear the son of War Eagle.* You would destroy me — ^but I fear you not. Be- ware! You have said that I love the pale -faces. That is true. They are the children of the Great Spirit, like the red-faces. They have been kind to me, and I will speak for ihem as T have spoken in counciL Enough. They are ob 326 FAIRFAX; OR, the war-path even now, and the bullet for your heart may be moulded. Yellow Serpent, you are evil ; the Devil of the whites, truly, is your friend. Beware of him — he will tear you limb from limb, and devour you. I have spoken! And turning away, the young Indian swept the landscape with a comprehensive glance, and re-entered the cavern, in depths of which he disappeared. The half-breed, who seemed to be agitated strangely, and through under a magnetic influence, remained motionless. This iYifluence was slowly dissipated ; his crafty grin re- turned, and with a menacing flash of the glittering eyes, he followed Lightfoot into the cave. For five minutes he had been covered by a dozen rifles, from the depths of the opposite mountain where Captain Wagner and his party lay concealed. aU MASTBB OF GBE£JN~nrAY 0017BI& Lxn. THE TBAIIm HE party had sf t Dut from the " Three Oaks m twenty minutes after the arrival of Captain Wr^g- ner That worthy, who, now that the contest WHS approaching, grew as cold and deliberate as an automaton, would not wait for Lord Fairfax, and hia troop. In br^ef, quick word??, he delivered his orders — ex* plained that he was officially ".>mmanding for the Earl, the Lieutenant of the county — and reviewed the arms and equipments of the party. Th»^y were hunters for the most part, and carried rifles and powder-horns. Nearly every one had his provision of jerked beef for the expedition. The rapid examination having proved satisfactory, the Captain took the head of the party, and directed lu« marih straight toward the Cedar Creek Mountain to the west, in nrhich direction his knowledge of the country and of the kabits of the Indians told him that the band had gona. They marched rapidly and silently until noon without finding any traces; but all at once they came upo.T> a c^bin, rifled of its contents and half-burned. The fire had evi- dently gone out. and a miserable-looking woman who had escaped on the appearance of the savages, and only re- turned when they went off, was crouching by the ciiimr.ey comer. Captain Wagner leai'ned from her that liis views were correct in relation to the direction taken by the band, and all set forward with new ardor. They soon entered the wild range of the Cedar Creek Mountain, and here, in the soft earth along the stream, 828 FAIBFAX; IB, struck OK an tmmistaiiable trail At points also distant only a few yards from each other, the boughs were bent down and broken, and the prints of feet were easily traced in th« earth. Captain Wagner pointed these out to Falconhridge. " Miss Argal's," he said, briefly, indicating a deep, narrow footprint; " and there's my friend's, broader and heavier.** They pushed forward with new ardor, and followed the footprints for several miles. Then the Captain suddenly drew rein, and exclaimed: " Stop ! what's this V The marks are no longer to be seen." And the Borderer dismounted and examined the ground in every direction. The female footprints had disappeared; but in place of them were unmistakable indications of blooA An ominous frown passed over the face of the Captain, and he looked at Falconbridge. He was trembHng. As to George, he was as pale as death. ''It's nothing," said the Borderer, assuming a stolid look; ** see, here are the broken boughs still." In fact, these indications of the route which the band had taken, as well as heavy moccasin footprints, were still visi- ble. As the prisoners had undoubtedly resorted to this device to direct the search of their friends, those prisoners were yet aKve. " May the devil take me if I understand thatl" said tlit Captain, frowning, " but we'll push on." The path now lay toward the north. They had fol* lowed it for five miles, when it suddenly entered a stream a hundred yards wide. Captain Wagner plunged in and forded. On the opposite shore there was no sort of indica- tion of the passage of the band. The broken bushes had continued regularly to the stream — ^there they suddenly stopped. Could they have taken to canoes ? No, the band was •ridently too numerous, and the savages could have broughl THE MASTEB OF GREENWAY OOUKR 829 none with them. "What was the explanation? Why had those marks disappeared? The Borderer knit his brows and reflected; then suddenly he pushed back through the water and went straight to one of the limbs which had been bent down and broken. He examined it attentively for an instant, and then leaped into the saddle again. ** About face, friends," he said, "we are on the wrong trail Follow I" And he set forward, quickly, returning over the ground which they had just traversed. "What is the meaning of this retreat, Captain?" said Falconbridge, who seemed possessed by a sort of reckless excitement, "we lose time." " We have lost much," was the brief reply. " Those broken boughs " "Are devices. Look at 'em, Falconbridge ! Don't yon perceive that they are thicker than any woman could break — and more than one higher than any but a man could reach ? Then observe how plain they are ! As much as to say 'Come on! don't mistake !' Prisoners never could have broken 'em without being noticed — ^it's a bUnd, and soon you'll see !" Without further words the Borderer pushed forward followed by the party, who knew him well, and did not think it at all necessary to question him. They soon reached the spot where the blood was visible, and the foot- prints of the females disappeared. Friends," said the Borderer, after nosing the ground for some moments, Uke a dog, and examining the dry grass and twigs in every direction, "we are on the trail again. At this spot the bloody rascals discovered the trick of the wo- men to direct us, and one of 'em was struck with a toma- hawk 1 No blazing eyes Falconbridge, or George ! — maybe it was a fi'iend of mine ! If so, 111 bew down the devils to the last man, or die 1 But come I The device is plain 1 The women were taken up, or their shoes removed here, and th9 sso FAIRFAX; OB, fellows sneaked off with 'em, .eaving no tracts, wbile a pari of tbe band went off north breaking limbs and stamping in* to the ground to mislead lis. When they came to the ri^er, they waded in the shallows for a mile, and then doubled back to join the main body." *' Why, there are no tracks here," said Falconbridge, eagerly. That's so — to your eyes, it may be, comrade. But I can see 'em. Look at that sprig of grass broken by a moccasin, an»i see this stick ? Follow, frienda ! I'm on the track — I can smell 'em!" And fche Borderer set forward rapidly. His predictions were soon verified. At the distance of si quarter of a mile from the bloody spot, the traces of feet again became visible, and the narrow marks of high-heeled shoes. The pursuit was now more rapid and sure. On the banks of Trout Run they all at once found other footprints approaching from the north; and Captain Wagner called the attention of Falcon- bridge to the circumstance, with a significant look. At the head of the stream, which the party reached, as the sun began to sink, all the footprints disappeared again ; bat a curl of the lip betrayed the feelings of the Borderer. " They are a bungling set of rascals after all," he said; "and don't know their trade, or I'm a dandy I Come, friends, back 1" "Back, Captain I" exclaimed Falconbridge, with sur- prise. "Yes, comrade — ^you are too curious for a hunter or a war party. Come by my side, and I'll explain as I go." The hunters had exhibited none of Falconbridge's sur- prise. They obeyed impUcity the directions of the Borderer, and followed sUently in the footsteps of his horse. Turn- ing a huge shoulder of the mountain, he said to Falcon- bridge as they proceeded : "This is the whole thing, companion The red snakei baTO crawled into the caves on the Devil's Garden, thr«f fEB MAOTEB OF GBSSN\f A7 OOUBIb 831 tilles from the place we stopped at. If we had gone ob they would have seen us, and perhaps laid an ambush for Oft. At any rate, we could have done nothing." "Yes, I see, but may I ask your plan ?" " Certainly. You are my second in command, and it ifl iimple. I am going to skirt this big shoulder, and mount the peak yonder. From the top of it you will see the pre- cipice of the Deyil's Garden, in which the enemy are con- cealed, not two hundred yards in front of you. A gulf sep- arates it. But I know a way of passing over — there is a path which is covered with pine bushes, winding down into the gorge. As soon as night comes on, if we see good we'll make the onset. I think the cards are pretty well shuffled, and the game is about to begin, comrade!" As he spoke, the Captain dismounted, and advised all who were mounted to imitate him. He took the saddle from the back of his horse, and hobbling his legs, turned him loose into a little glen, where there was grass and water. The rest did likewise : and then headed by the Borderer, they cautiously wound up the precipitous moim- tain, the summit of which they reached as the sun sank from sight. "Look, Falconbridge !" said Wagner, putting stealthily aside the heavy pine boughs beneath which they were con- cealed; "there are two of the red devils at the mouth of tht Devil's Caver As we have 8een> these were Lightfoot and the Hill- breed. 882 FAIRFAX; OBi Lxm LIOHTTOOT 4ND OANinX. HE interior of the cavern presented a singtdaf appearance. A bright fire was burning, and on all sides were piled up articles which the savages had carried off with them from the plundered dwellings. These objects were indicative of the mingled barbarism and childish sim- plicity of the Indians. There was much gaily-colored crockery; many bright Hnsey and other fabrics were seen scattered about; and a few strings of beads, and brass rings> taken from the dead bodies of the women whom they had slain, and brought, not without unwillingness, to the general mass, were the objects of longing and covetous glances. The Indians were forty or fifty in number, and were scat- tered about the large cavern in various attitudes, pictur- esque and gxaceful, or odd and grotesque. Here a great warrior was broiling a piece of venison at the blazing fire in the centre, the savory odor diffusing itself throughout the cave: — there an Indian boy was striving to put together the broken pieces of a red crockery dish, which he had guarded on the march with a jealoi.n care which indicated the high valae which he placed upon it. In a corner a number ol the braves were sleej^ing tranquilly in the red Ught, the blood ot the slain still staining their tomahawks, and more thai, one gory scalp hanging from their girdles, but slum- berbig, n«->verthel«ss, like infants, under the slnpefying effects of a long march, a heavy meal, and some rum which thej bad laken from the Ordinary, THK MASTER OF ^REENWAY COUKU 88S In an obscure comer to which the light of the fire scarce- ly penetrated, a number of captives, male and female, with Oieir hands securely tied, were huddled together upon the the floor of the cavern, under a guard, who watched them with grave intentness. Neither Monsieur Jambot ?ior Major Hastyluck was visible, however : — and we may ai weU say here that these worthies had been " pricked on- ward " under heavy loads, by another portion of the band, who had hurried westward, and were never more heard of in that region. Hastyluck, doubtless, drank punch among the Sioux and Catawbas — when he could get it — for the re- mainder of his hfe: and Monsieur Jambot taught the minuek and reel to youthful savage maidens. Lightfoot passed through the group, who made way for the young chief with evident respect, and slowly ascended the rugged stairway into the next cave above. In this were confined, under guard of a single Indian, who stood outside, Mrs. Butterton, Miss Argal, and Cannie. The two former were sleeping, wrapped in shawls, near a blazing fire, on piles of dry grass which had been arranged for them — their feet swollen and frayed by the long journey — theii* skirts cut oft* below the knees— a necessity to facili- tate their movements.* ]\irs, Butterton was slumbering fitfully; her dress was stained with blood, and a wound was visible upon one ol her large fat arms; from which wound, indeed, had flowed the blood which the pursuing party discovered at the point of divergence of the two routes. The dame had been dis- covered bending down and breaking the branches, and one of the chiefs had struck her with his tomahawk. The wound was not dangerous, however. She slept uneasily, but evidently without much physical pain. But, from time to time, her features would become distorted by an expres- * See Kercheyal in many placea* This was a Bystematio practtoo Mnosg Uit Tni1H*HI Wttti thalr female oaptlTea. SS4 FAIRFAX; OB, •ion of fear, and she would raise her hands rildly and mur- mur some broken and indistrnct words, which the young Indian sentinel would listen to with grave interest. Misi Argal slept as quietly and sweetly as a child. Cannie was awake, and when the light tread of the young Indian attracted her attention, the Httle face became brighter, and she held out her hand to Lightfoot with the air of a child who sees a protector approach. The smile with which she greeted him was inexpressibly sad; but hia presence was evidently a comfort to her. " Oh, I am so ^:>lad to see you, Lightfoot !" she said, wip- ing away two tears which hung like dew-drops upon her fye-lashes; "this place fiightens me, and it is like home tc iee you." The word home seemed to direct the girl's thoughts to her gi-andfather, and with a sudden rush of blood to her cheeke^, she placed both hands upon her face and sobbed. " Oh, me ! they have killed him ! they have killed him !" Lightfoot stood for a moment, silently regarding the girl as she half reclined upon the couch of dry grass, her frame shaken by sobs, her breast heaving, her long chestnut curls falling wildly about her shoulders. An expression of un- speakable love and tenderness came to his eyes ; and he Beemed unable for the moment to command his voice. He controlled his emotion, however, with the wonderful art of his race, and made a movement of his hand toward the yoimg Indian who stood on guard. " Go," he said, in the Catawba tongue, " I would speak with the captive." The sentinel obeyed with an alacrity which indicated per- fect willingness to join his companions belcw, and disap** peared. The cavern was left thus untenanted except by the two persons, and the sleepers, whose heavy breathing in- Taded the silence. Lightfoot took the hand of the girl in hia own, with aa air of the deepest respect, and said, nuldJjr : •THK MASTER OF GEEEKWAl COUBH SSft "No, the J have not killed yonr grandfather, Mountain DoTe. You know that I came from the forest as the Ca- fcawbas made their attack Had I arrived sooner,'' added the young Indian, raising his head proudly, "it would never have happened, for they obey the son of War Eagle. I came in time to stop the knife which would have scalped the old man : — he is scarcely injured, and will soon walk the mountain again." " Oh, are you sure, Lightfoot ?" cried Cannie, removing her hands quickly, and raising her wet face, " are you sure? Dear Lightfoot! you love Cannie — do you not? Do not deceive me 1 I am only a child," she added, weeping silent- ly, " and very weak, but I can bear it — I won't cry ! Are you certain that gi*andpa was not killed ?" " He was only wounded, and not badly. I struck down the arm of the warrior who would have scalped him; and you know the tribe directly commenced their march." There was an air of such simplicity and sincerity about the yoimg Indian as he spoke, that his words carried con- viction to his hearer. Her eyes sparkled with sudden de- light, her breast was filled with a long, deep breath, which Beemed to afford her inexpressible relief, and seizing the Indian's hand, she exclaimed with touching earnestness and affection : "How can I ever love you enough, dear Lightfoot^ for protecting grandpa ? I will love you until I die !" And carried away by glad emotion, before he was con- scious of her intention, Cannie raised the hand which she held to her lips, and imprinted upon it a long, lingering kiss. A shudder of delight ran through the fi^ame of the young Indian. His face flushed, and the eyes which were gener- ally so calm and clear, suddenly filled with impetuous emotion. A thrill of happiness agitated his pulses, at the foniact the sof t, warm hps, and he drew away the liand* 836 FAIBFAX: OB, with a look of such unspeakable tenderness that Cannk colored to tJtie roots of her hair. That look had revealed to her in an instant, with ihe ra- pidity of lightning, as it were, the secret of the young Indian. For years she had known that he had a deep affection for her — ^from her childhood l e had visited the mountain cottage regularly, and always exhibited his fond- ness—but now she saw plainly that there was a deeper feel- ing in his heart. The instinct of womanhood explained all this to her — she saw for the first time, with agitated eyes, that the young Indian loved her as a youth loves a maiden^ And Lightfoot was not backward in discerning the new relations which must exist fi'om that moment between him- self and Cannie. He saw that his glance had betrayed him, that she had witnessed his tremor of delight — that she had understood at last his real feelings. They had grown up together, as youth and child — they were no longer such. It was a man who was sitting beside the woman whom he loved with a devotion and tenderness which absorbed hia very being. For some moments deep silence reigned in the cavern. Both were too much overcome to speak. A vague pain and pity, not unmingled with tenderness, filled the bosom oi the young girl; and from time to time, she stole a furtive glance at the Indian, her cheeks burning with blushes, her hps trembling. Never had she looked so beautiful as at that instant. The curls of her chestnut hair fell in glossy masses around the pure yoimg face with its innocent and grave sweetness — the slender figure inclined sidewise, in an attitude of exquisite grace — the head was bent over the left shoulder, and nearly rested upon it: — m outline and car- riage, in the entire character and expression, of the girl, there was no longer anything of the child: it was a woman, and a woman of surpassing loveliness, who had burst into bloom — passed suddenly from the bud to the perfect flower Had sorrow caused thi» rapid 4tT6iopment ? It maj ban THE MASTER OP GBEENWAY COUBT. been so. But often a similar phenomenon tajres place frith* out any visible reason. It was then that the young Indian proved the nobility of hifl nature. Instead of taking her hand, he drew his own away. Instead of gazing into the blushing and agitated face, to discern if his feelings were returned, he lowered his eyea For some moments his gaze remained fixed upon the floor of the cavern, and the heaving muscles of his chest alone indicated the terrible war of emotion in his bosom. When he raised his head he had become calm again. There was no longer any light in his eyes, any flush in hia cheeks; and the lips were firm again. A grave sweetness and serenity, just tinged with melancholy, had replaced the sudden rush of ardent emotion. It was the face full of seri- ous and noble dignity to which she was accustomed : and Cannie blushed again, as she looked into the clear eyes, as the woman's thought came to her — he is so noble, and he loves me 1 For some moments they sat gazing thus in silence at each other. Then the young Indian gravely took her little hand in his own, and pressed it to his lips, with the expression of a devotee at the shrine of his saint. " Lightfoot is a poor weak boy," he said, in a low voice, which had not recovered its calmness wholly; ''he has done wrong. But the little Mountain Dove will forgive him — will she not r "Forgive you, Lightfoot?'* murmured Cannie, almost in* audibly, " why, what have you done "What was wrong,'' said the voung man, shaking hi* head, sadly. "I cannot conceal anything — my father al- ways made me act honestly — I have tried to be the son of War Eagle in truth, and this puts the words in my mouth. I have done wrong, because I have spoken with my eyes to the Dove, as a young pale-face may speak — and said, *I love you.' I am not a pale-face, I am a poor In- dian, and inferior to the tribe beyond the Big Water. It ii 16 m FAIRFAX; OJR, Bot right tliat my father's son should do this— that h% should come to the little white Dove when she has no friend near her — ^when she is a captive in the hands ol Lightfoot's tribe — and say, ' I love you, and would have you love me as your chosen warrior/ No, no," said the young Indian, his cheeks filling in spite of every effort, and hiiB voice trembhng, '*that is wrong, and my father's spirit frowns upon me from the sky !" And turning away his head, the speaker uttered a deep sigh, which, but for his immense self-control, would have turned into a groan. The girl blushed and avoided his gaze as he spoke ; but now recovering her voice, said in low, broken accents : " You pain me, Lightfoot ! You hurt Cannie. Do not talk thus. I am only a child, and you must love me as be- fore — ^for — for — I love you dearly — dear, dear, Lightfoot !" She had not intended it. She never would have uttered 4he words had she reflected for a single instant upon the meaning which he must attach to them. It was an impulse of irresistible pity and kindness which carried her away — of woman's tenderness for one who loved her and suffered — of admiration and old affection, and lonely weakness. She burst into a flood of tears as she spoke, and then suddenly drew her hand away. The young Indian had seized it with passionate tender- ness, and covered it with kisses. "No — no!" she sobbed; "do not! do not, Lightfoot I I did not mean — how unhappy — how miserable I am !" And the voice died away in an inarticulate murmur. The Indian drew back, and folded his arms. He saw his terrible error in an instant, and in its whole extent. His heart turned cold, and with close-set teeth he remained ai eilent and rigid as a statue, his dark eyes burning with a fixed and immovable despair. The girl spoke first : her voice was broken and ag;itated. Sobs interrupted it, ai tTBTj iufitani. THE MASHEB OF QBEEKWAY OOUBTv 83* " I was — wrong : it was cruel to — mislead yon. I wiU not affect — ^any ignorance of your meaning I Wiil jou— • pardon me? I am not strong and calm like you, Light- foot," she continued, wiping her eyes, and continuing more calmly, "I am only a child, and I could not help saying how much I — loved you, as my dear, dear friend and play- mate, at our dear little home! I did not think — ^but I will not speak of that any more! Indeed, you are very deal to me, for you have been kind and good to me alway^i, iind to grandpapa, and I admire, and look up to you, Light-" foot. I am only a child yet, and not a woman. You will love me, will you not, as a child — as you always loved me — and I will love you. You'll be my brother and friend, will you not, Iiightfoot And Cannie, with all the simplicity and innocence of a child, looked into the young Indian's agitated face, smiling through her tears, and appealing to him, as it were, for care and protection. A last contraction of the Indian's features betrayed tho depth of the despair which he controlled with a will of iron. He had conquered himseM. His face grew calm and grave again — ^he returned the confiding look of the girl with one of brotherly kindness and affection. "I thank the Great Spirit, who has blessed the poor son of War Eagle with these moments," he said, raising hie Qoble head and eyes toward heaven, " I thank the Master of Life more than all for placing me where I may show the young Dove of the mountain that I am her friend. Let her cease to remember the wild words which Lightfoot has ut- tered — thev came from his Hps without asking him to let them. But the blood shall flow out of his heart as readily for the Dove who has spoken to him so kindly. Yes, yes, I wiU be your friend. Mountain Dove — the hour is near when I will prove it. Forget now the words I have spoken, and ileep. But pray for the poor son of War Eagle first" **0h» yef»r' said Cannie^ wiping away her t6&ra» '^lei ua 840 FAIRFAX; OB, pray together as we have often done at home, Lighi foot!" And taking the Indian's hand, the young giil knelt at hif side, and murmured a prayer for him, for her grandfather, and for all whom she loved. It was a touching spectacle, to see the young man and the girl thus kneeUng beside each other in the gloomy cavern, only half revealed by the stray gleams of the dying fire. They were of different and hostile races — ^they were in deadly peril — the hours that came rapidly would decide life or death for them — but tliey prayed. They prayed ad tranquilly and hopefully, their hunble prayer, as though they knelt at home in the little mountain dwelling. And mortals may do as much everywhere. When Lightfoot slowly retired, his face was quite cairn. His great soul was untroubled. He had yielded his heart and future to the " Master of Life," and was tranquil. Fifteen minutes after he had disappeared down the stair- case, the Half-breed, who had been concealed in a dark nook at the entrance, glided out, and entered the otaw&x^ teom which he had just emerged. VBM MABtEB Of G^EEKWAt OOtJlOt LXIV. CHE SLAYE AKD HIS MISTBES8. XHATJSTED by the painful conflict of emotioni in the scene with Lightfoot, Cannie had quickly followed his injunctions, and fallen asleep. "When the Half-breed stole, with the stealthy step of a creeping tiger, into the apartment, the girl wfw lying upon her couch of dry grass, and breathing regularly as she slumbered. The hideous being paused for a moment upon the threshold; and then, with a cowed and humble air, approaehed the group, his eyes fixed on the form oi Miss ArgaL This man, if he may be called such, was one of those strange and anomalous beings who appear from time to time on the earth, to falsify, it would seem, every rule and maxim in relation to human character. Deformed in body and mind — a revolting monster to the eye, and no less a repulsive object to the mind — ^he yet possessed a strange sensitiveness to beauty and nobility, and cowered before them as a slave before the whip of the master whom he re- cognizes. We have seen that in the interview with Light- foot, the Half-breed, in spite of his hatred and jealousy, was unable to meet the eye of the young chief. The pres- ence of the son of TVar Eagle defeated all his calculations — his influence in the tribe was seriously lessened —the youth had called him a slave, and what was more terrible still, had used the word which made his blood boil within him — the word " lacke /" Yet in spite of all this, in spite of his most powerful efforts, he had been compelled, by some irresistible power» to crouch before the youth, and bend his back to th^ 842 FAIBFAX, OB. L> She had soon discovered the influence which she poa- \ «essed over her conqueror, and had applied herseK to the cask, throughout the march, of deriving benefit from it ; Fortunately, a falsehood of the Half-breed prevented the i poor girl fi'om being bowed down to the ground by the hor- j rible recollection of her father's dissevered body. She had ; been removed from the building before the Half-breed slew ] nim; and the monster coolly informed her that he had ; escaped in the darkness, and was unhurt. Thus, Miss j Argal, unoppressed by this terrible tragedy, and convinced ■) that her father, whom she loved dearly, was safe, gave I her attention to the conquest of her captor, without effort. | She had dazzled him with the magnetic lustre of her eyes ; : sent a shiver through his defonned and rugged frame, by \ touching his huge, knotty hand with her own little white ,( one, as soft as satin; ^he had smiled upon the Half-breed, ; as she alone knew how to smile; and very soon perfected : her conquest. Before they reached their place of conceal- j ment, she had not only secured for herself every comfort ' and convenience, she had also induced her slave to treat j Cannie and Mrs. Butterton without cruelty, even respect fully. She would pass her arm around Cannie when the ] child grew faint, and send the Half-breed to the stream to i procure water for her. He was her captive, and she used hei \ power to ameliorate the condition of her compojiions, with i whom she shared every comfort. i And on all this, the strange being had looked with appro- ] bation and a species of pleasure. It evidently deHghled ' him to humble himself before the beautiful woman. He i seemed thus to approach nearer to her. He was less her j abhorrence when she smiled on him, than when she trem- ] loled before him, and recoiled as his oaptive. And here w« notice another trait in this bloody animai. His phyaicftl ieformity had been, throughout his life, as sore a point with him as a clubfoot or a cast in the eye is to a beau or a fashionable young lady. He had found himself the terror and horror of the Indian maidens. They retreated hastilj when he approached them and avoided any chance of meet- ing him. One and all of them had striven vainly to conceal the mirgled fear and disgust which they felfc for his person, with its crooked, gnarled hmbs, its gigantic torse, its low, flat forehead, wide mouth, and protruding tusks. He had loved one of these maidens — as he could love — as her slave. Her beauty had attracted him and he had sued for her hand; but the maiden had almost fainted when his sallow face ap- proached her own — when his huge mouth expanded into a hideous grin of servile admiration. When he took her hand in his great rugged paw, on which the black veins stood out like whip-cords, she had shuddered, and drawn it hastily away. When he pressed her to tell him what her feeling toward him was, she had rephed, with a trembling voice, that she was afraid of him; but he read in her pale, sick face that she regarded him with irresistible disgust Such had been the weakness, such the fortune of the Half breed throughout his hfe. He had early left the peaceful home of his tribe, and joined the predatory band of the Ca- tawbas. On the war-path, in the midst of blood and peril, his deformity would not be observed. His great strength and ferocity had soon gained for him a conspicuous position in the tribe. He became a chief, and was what in othei walks of life we would call a rapidly rising man. But the recollection of his deformity never left him. He yearned for some object upon which to expend his pent-up feelings. What those feeHngs were he never stopped to inquire, nor do we feel able to describe them. The Half-breed was a Enonster of ferocity and bLood, but he was still human, and not wholly destitute of human emotion. At times hia crav- ing for something — ^if only an animal — ^to love him, wai THE MASTER OF GREENWAY COURT. 846 inormotis, irresistible almost. He would remain for dayi in his wigwam, scarcely tasting food, brooding over his con- dition, and struggling in his benighted and sullen mind to understand why he had been created, and what his life would be. When he came forth, and the tribe whispered and nodded at him, and followed him with their eyes as his squat figure went by — muttering fearfully that the Yellow Serpent had been communing with sx3irits — he would gnast nis teeth with scorn, and despise the shallow fools, and feel that he was alone in the world. Then he would return to the war-path with a bloody ardor, which struck terror into all hearts; he would slay women and children without mer- cy; he would reap undying honor from his associates — to go back and writhe and growl in his den like a wounded wild animal, whose body is festering with poisonous blood and corruption. This was the thorn in the ferocious soul of the HaK-breed — the secret wound which made him mad with pain almost. He knew his own mental and physical deformity, the dis- gustingly hideous body and mind which he possessed; and he cowered before those who were superior to him. He crouched in the presence of a pure and noble soul like Lightfoot's. He obeyed with the alacrity of a slave the commands of the beautiful woman who was in his power. He waited upon her, and followed her directions like a ser- rant. It is true that at times, as he had attempted in the presence of Lightfoot, he would struggle to assert the supre- macy which he really possessed — the power which he could exert over the band — his authority; but the endeavor was vain. True to his instinct, as we have said before, he would yield in the struggle, bow his head before what he recog* Dized as above him, and take the position of the slave again, awaitmg tne order of his superior. Thus the Half-Breed was almost dehghted when IVIiss Argal commanded him to do anything. Her subtle instinct •oon taught her that tnis was the best manner of treatiog 1R<» 846 FAIRFAX; OB, hinL The penetrating eyes of the young lady discerned the secret of her power, and she was not backward in availing herself of it. His respeot and submission seemed to increase with her arbitary demeanor. There was a strange charm, too, in thus humbling the master of her fate. As we have already said, she used her power lite a kind, tender woman, to soften the lot of her companions, especially Cannie. She had taken a strong fancy to the child indeed, and supplied her with every comfort she had. She took off her own wrf*pping and threw it around the little shoulders, and seemed reaily distressed when Cannie would not receive it A-t least the girl should have everything which she could procure for her, however; and the slave-master, the Half- Dreed, was calmly directed to bring this or that object for Cannie, and attend to all her wants and even wishes. The savage would grin and hasten to obey. His reward was the approving smile of his empress — that smile which said to him, as he basked in it with fierce pleasure, "Others may think you are hideous and repulsive, but I am fond of you, because you comply with my wishes.'* It was the long sought balm for his degraded soul — the salve which softened his festering w^ound. He could thus forget for a time hia debasement, and submit his fierce head, like a conquered wild animal, with grumbling delight, to tt e soft white hand which caressed it without fear or disgust. Once arrived at their place of concealment, the Half-breed had applied himself assiduously to the task of making the young lady's retreat, and that of her companions, as comfort- able as possible. He had gone to some distance and pro- cured a large quantity of dry grass for their couches. Thia he had arranged in the most convenient manner; and then he had brouglit a quantity of the linsey sliawls which had beer stolen, to protect them from the cold air oi the cavoriu A fire had then been kindled, some supper brought, and the savage had retired as a servant retires after fuLfilling th/i toaxammOA of his mistreaa* ! m MAST£B Of GBimmiT OOUBS^ Mf ^ Bvery arrangement connected wiO the concealment of ] the tribe had been hurried through by the Half-breed— ■ every trace of their presence obliterated. He had finally | gon® to make a last survey of the horizon, before returning j to the magnet which attracted him in the cavern abova ' We have seen how he was detained by Lightfoot, how they [ conversed for a time, and how the young Indian re-entered i first. When the Half-breed followed him, he found that he i had mounted to the upper cavern where the three females ; were; and he stealthily glided up the staircase behind him. j Concealed in a dark nook of the cave he had heard the en- j tire conversation between Lightfoot and Cannie, had thrilled i with a strange awe as they prayed, and remained in his ] place of concealment until the young L iJian had retired, ; and Canni-e, as he knew by her regular breathing, wtm ittleep. j Be tken entered and approached MIsb Arg^ \ i 848 FAIBFAX: n LXV. CALIBAN AND MIBANDA. ITE young lady stirred in her sleep, and a if^mot ran through her frame. The vicinity of tbi crouching and hideous figure seemed ^3 exert a magnetic influence upon her. The Half-breed remained for some time silent and mo« tionless at her side, gazing with a species ot ferocious and yet serrile admiration upon the beautiful countenance, around which fell the profuse *^:bon curls — afraid apparently to awaken the sleeper. Finally he grew bolder; he crawled like a stealthy panther toward the pillow of the girl, and took in his huge knotty fingers, one of the dark curls and gazed at it with the air of a child who holds a toy which fills it with delight. The movement awoke the sleeper, and for an instant she gazed with a dreamy air into the revolting mask, rather than human countenance, upon which tlio red gleam of the fire- light fell, lighting up every repul^sivo detail— the snake-h'ke eyes, the grinning mouth, the hooked nose, and narrow fore- head, like a dog's or an ape'a Another tremor ran through Miss Argal's form, and she quickly rose, leaning upon one hand, and looking silently at the Half-breed. In this gaze, however, there was no trace of fear. Despite the wild and frightful scene, the horrible appearance of the intruder, and the half-darkness of the cavern, she did not tremble or ex- hibit any sign of terror. On the contrary, she recovered almost instantly the air of mistress, which we have referred to. and said in a tone of angea THE MASTEB OP GBEENWAT OOUBll 849 ••Why did you come and wake me?" The savage cowered, and retreating two paces, said hum* bly, but cunningly : "I came to see if the White Raven," such was the 'name he had given her, " was well wrapped up and warm. Tht cave is cold and damp — and she is weary with the journey.** " Well," said Miss Argal calmly, " you see tbnt I am pro* ▼ided for — and now leave me." The Half-breed made an unconscious motion to obey, fol- lowing his instinct — ^but some other impulse coimteracted the first. " Let us talk a little, first," he said, grinning with a polite ttir. " Let the White Eaven talk to the Yellow Serpent.'* " I am weary." "Nevertheless you must talk," returned the Half-Breed obdurately, " you are my captive, and I am not sleepy." Miss Argal saw from the tone of these words that she had lost a portion of her former power over him, and her mar* velous tact made her instantly change her manner and ex- pression. " Well," she said, "if you treat me as your captive, I must submit, and obey you. Of what shall we talk, Yellow Ser- pent?" The old fascinating glance which had charmed Falcon- bridge came back ; and the dangerous smile of the dazzling beauty played upon the ugly dwarf, as it had played upon the young cavalier. The Half-breed thrilled with a vague delight as she looked thus at him, and said : " We will talk of the future, when you will be the Yellow Serpent's wife." ^'Your wife!" " Yes," was the resolute, almost savage reply, " you shall be my wife I I have sworn it, and it shall be so. I am unmarried, I am a great brave, and you shall be my wife, of I will keep you from being any other warrior's wife— yon must die, or be mine 1" 850 FAIRFAX; OE, TLe ferocious eyes glared as lie spote. and the lips oturled fiercely. Instead of becoming angry, ]Misb Argal smiled more sweetly than before. The will of the strange animal pleased her, whilst it put her upon her guard and aroused all her fi7iesse to meet the occasion. She assumed the pouting ail of a child, and with a glance filled with blandishment, saidi "Wliy do you wish to have me for your wife, Yellow Ser- pent ? You say that you are a great brave, if so, why hav« you not selected some maiden of your tribe?" The hideous face was darkened: the eyes scowled bitterly: " Because the maidens despise me, and get sick when 1 go near them," he growled; " they are frightened by my ugliness ! You only are not frightened, and I have sworn by the Evil Spirit that you shall be mine, "^Vhite Raven — mino only! Yon need not try to escape me! I will kill myself rather, but I will kill you first. I will be your slave if necessary — but rather than see you leave me, or spurn me, I will plunge my knife into your heart-, and we will die together He was ferocious, imperial, as he thus spoke. There was something almost attractive in the fierce animal's air. Hft resembled an aroused tiger. It was the beauty of strength and bloody determination. And instead of fiightening Miss Argal, it drew her. Her feminine nature, in spite of the disgusting figure of the speaker, recognized his power and passion. She looked at him almost with pleasure, and said smiling : " Well, but suppose you were my husband, how could 1 live away from home, in your land ?" "You need not," returned the savage, returning to hiM submissive air, " I will follow you back and become a white. Still there is much to make yon go with me. I am no common Indian. I am a great chief, and my squaw will be a gi'cat woman in the tribe. She shall live daintily, every one shall wait on her. I will be king in the band, but she vill be the king's king— his beautiful queen. The tendeieil ME MASIER t>F GBEENWAY COUBT. 851 ^ame shall be brought to the tp.ble of tho "^Tiite Rav'en — the finest plunder shall be her own — the maidens shall ilano€ before her, and she shall wear the handsomest clothes to (got in the settlements." " That is well; I hlie that, but I cannot go.** *^Why? You must!" " I cannot." "You skill r Miss Argal became submissive and tranquil She put het Sands to her eyes and murmured : " Whj do you S]3eab to me so cruelly Some sobs succeeded, and she looked through her tears at the Half-breed, with such a lovely air of uncomplaining sorrow, that he felt all his anger leave him. He cowered before her, and said : " The Yellow Seii)ent did not mea,n to make the Whita Raven cry. He is her slave." The young lady dried her tears, and shaking her head, re- plied : " You act like a master, and I no longer have any regard for you. When you were kind to me, I liked you ; but now I hate you." And she turned away her head with an air of offended dignity. The Half-breed was conquered by his captive. As she yielded to his will, so now he submitted hke a slave to her displeasure. The resolute expression disappeared — his eyes sank before her, and he said humbly : "The Yellow Serpent did not mean to speak roughly. He is no savage — he is almost a white, and knows how ten- der-hearted the white maidens are. Let the ^\Tiite Eaven Decome the wife of tlie Serpent, and he will be her servant for life. He is a Half-breed, he cares nothing for the Ca- tawbas. He will go and li v^e like an Englishman in a house, and hunt game, and till t-ie p.roundy jind wait on tlxe "WTiiU Eaven. He is her friend.''' You do not prove it^" said Miss Argal^ coldlj. FAIBFAX; 0% « How must I?- " Rescue me and my companions.** " men r « To-night." The savage hesitated and reflected. He evidently doubted^ " If I do so," he said at length, " will you go away witb me!" It was Miss Argal's turn to hesitate — it was only for ao instant however. With her former fascinating smile sh« said : " I will go away with you." " And be my wife ?" "Yes," The hideous mask flushed with joy, and a broad grin re- vealed the long hog-hke teeth. The young lady almost re- coiled before the horrible countenance — she grew faint aoi she saw the Half-Breed gaze upon her as a hawk does upon a dove which he has nearly caught in his clutches. He seized her hand, and would have pressed it to his ugly mouth, but she suddenly drew it away, and said with a quick return to her air of offended dignity. " Let my hand go, and now let us talk of the means ol escape. How will you devise it ?" The Half-breed drew back humbly, and said : " I must think of that. But it will be impossible to take the others." And he pointed to Mrs. Butterton and Cannie. Misi Argal assumed an air of resolute determination, and replied: " Then I will not go with you." Not gol" "No — unless you rescue them, tool" "Why, what do you care for them?" " They are my friends — I love the little one dearly.** And bending over the young girl, she smoothed with a 0oft hand Cannie's disordered tresses. Her smile, as she ihns caressed the little head, was cue of exquisite 8weetna«^ (TEE MASTES Of GHEEKWAIf COtmT. tod showed how much warmth of heart was concealed be- neath the warped and strangely disturbed nature of the poor girl. Her savage companion was not unaflfected by the manner of the young lady. He was evidently pleased, and said at length : " I will try. But you at least shall be rescued. I am tired of my Hfe in the band, and have been thinking that you are right in wanting to return to the white settlements. Yes, I will give up the war-path ! I will go back with you — White Raven, you shall make me a pale-face, like my father." The snake-Hke eyes grew thoughtful, and even soft, as the man spoke, and he plainly returned in memory to some scene of the past. Miss Argal caught the changed manner with her quick and acute instinct, and said : Was your father a white ?" Tes," returned the Half-breed, " he was a hunter whc married an Indian girl, of the Catawbas. My mother died when I was a baby, and my father soon afterward. The tribe took me, and one day my old granny, who nursed me, showed me where my father and mother were buried in the woods by Belle Riviere — which the English call the Ohio. I never cried but once — cried that day. Yes, I did cry afterwards when granny was killed by a white — I spht his head with my tomahawk though ! I wanted him to come to, afterwards, to stick burning spHnters in his body, and roast him till he yelled and died in the flames !" The scowl had come back, — the bloody instinct was re- vived: — ^but it disappeared again, very soon before the smiles of his companion. She had evidently marshalled all of her attractions for the task of subduir.g to her wiU, and making a slave of, the singular being in whose power she found her- self. No one could have discovered in her air or expression the least indication of disgust, as she looked at and spoke to him. Her smile was as dazzling, her eyes dwelt upon his countenance with as pleased and gratified a look, as if it was Uie face of a gallant young gentleman^ and not a salloWi de- a54 FAIEFAX; OK, lurmed ape. In half an hour her dominie n oveat him wai complete. He was gazing at her with a B]3ecies of submis- sive ecstasy: the soft hand, figm-atively speaking, had smoothed with its caresses the bristling head of the animal^ and with delighted growls, he crouched and cowered at th€ feet of his mistress and keeper. The details of the project of escape were quickly arranged At dayUght the Half-breed would return to the cavern where she slept — and pass through the fissure in the roof ol the highest cave to the area above, with the three women — he would leave Mrs. Buttertonand Cannie at a place of safety near a neighboring fort, — and then he and Miss Argal would proceed to a spot in the Alleghanies, where a New Light missionary Kved, and be married. Afterwards they would seek the northern settlements. This was the Half-breed's plan. It is unnecessary to say that it was not Miss ArgaFs. Her design was to escape without the assistance of the Half-breed ; — her colloquy on the subject had a very simple object. That object was the discovery of the means which her captor would make use of to effect the escape. She had attained a knowledge of all now: — the fissure in the upper cave would permit them to pass: — and long before daybreak, they would all be far away. As this thought passed through her mind. Miss Argal be- stowed upon the Half-breed, her most winning and confid- ing smile. She graciously gave him her hand to kiss — Siib- mitted to the ceremony without moving a muscle — and then, declaring that she needed rest, smiled him out of the cav- ern. The animal went away, shuddering with ill-concealed de- light, and gazing on the young woman until an abutment ol the rock hid her fi*om his view. With a sneering smile, IViiss Argal then turned, and has* tUy, bat with a wary hand, awoke her companions. mm MASfUJsA OF gesskwat ootnrt 3S6 LXVX LIGHT SHINma IN Di KKNESS^ HE three women consulted for somo time m animated wliispers, and their plan was rapidlj formed. Thej would remain quiet until the Indians^ went to sleep; and then, when the cavern was all silent, and occupied only by slumbering forms, would steal up the Btaircase into the cave above, ascend to the next, then to the next — and finally make their exit through the fissure in the roof of the last. Thereafter, escape would not be difficult. As soon as day-light came tliey would be able to make their way back by the path which they had followed in coming — the broken twigs would direct tham. "And then, Cannie," said Mss Argal, placing her arm around the girl, di-awing the little head down to her bosom, and kissing the white brow ; " then, Cannie, dear, you wiU get back to your grandfather, and we will all be happy again." "Oh, yes I I long to see grandpapa !" returned the girl, clasping her hands; " he is miserable about me, I know, and would be following me, if he had not been wounded — Oh I 00 crueUy wounded V* A. sob accompanied the words. There, don't cry," said the young lady, smoothing the girl's curls, " hope for the best — and one thin^ which I rely upon more than all, is just what you have spoken of — a par- ty must be coming to rescue us. I know they are coming.** " Yes," said Mrs. Butterton, "Captain Wagner wiU not ftej loQg— but oh 1 my poor, poor father V fAlBfAl; Oil, And a sob, deeper than Cannie's, came from the irartti* hearted woman's lips. " Captain Wagner will surely come/' said Miss Argal, a shadow of anguish passing over her countenance, " and — ^Mr. Falconbridge 1" She paused a moment, overcome apparently by some oruel memory: then controlling her emotion, added : '•^ We must go, however, and meet them. That is part d my plan. The Indians will follow us, unless they are afraid^ but the pursuers will not suffer them to re-capture us." " We will trust in God, at least," said Cannie, with touch- ing simpKcity; " you know if we trust in Him He will not de- ■ert us; and all He does is for the best." Miss Argal did not reply. She seemed suddenly absorbed in painful reflection, continuing to caress the girl's hair Then she turned her dark eyes upon the little face, and gazed at Cannie with ar expression of such hopeless anguish that it made the girl's countenance flush with pity and sym* pathy. No one could have recognized in the changed fea- tures of Miss Argal, the proud and imp^al woman of the past. The penetrating eyes no longer glittered with their dazzling and seductive magnetism; the hps no longer curled with disdain or provoking coquetry. The eyes were bathed in moisture — the Hps quivered. The drooping lashes nearly rested upon the pale cheek; and as Cannie gazed, tear after tear flowed silently down, and fell upon her upturned face. "You are crying !" said the girl. " Ohl what are you cry- ing for?" The arm of the young lady tightened its fold around the slender form, and bending down her head, she pressed a kiss upon the girl's hps, and burst into tears. " T am crying because I am so bad, and you make me so ashamed, she said in a broken voice; "I am so untruthful and bad, and miserable ! Oh I Cannie I what you have said breaks my heart! — for I do not trust in God I I have tried but I cannotl I cannot 1 1 am evil and miserable! and He hatetmer THE MASTER OF GBEEITWAY CX^UBT. 357 * Oh, no !" returned the girl, mingling her tears with those of her companion, " He does not hate yon I He can* aot, if you feel that you have done wrong and ask His for- giveness I" *' I cannot ask it ! I am unfit to pray ! Once I prayod at mamma's knees — but I have not prayed for years — I have done so much evil ! But — ^but — Cannie — do you know I And the poor girl sobbed convulsively. " Do you know — am — my mind is not sound — am out of my head — sometimes! — always, I think: — and I have thought that He will pardon a poor — miserable — insane girl — for her wickedness ! Oh ! teach me to pray, Cannie — you pity me and do not turn away — I almost think God will for- give me if you kneel and ask Him to. May I kneel down with you?" Cannie scarcely knew how, but in a moment she was kneehng upon the floor of the cavern — between the two wo- men in the same posture — and praying in a low, broken, but earnest voice. She could not tell how the words came — she did not hesitate an instant, nevertheless ; her prayer was tearful, impulsive, and filled with deep feeling. When she rose. Miss Argal leaned her head upon the ten- der bosom, encircled Cannie's neck with her arm, and sob- bing, exhausted, trembling with emotion, whispered faintly in her ear: ''I think God has heard me, and forgiven me." The dying firelight no longer fell upon a countenance full of anguish and shame : — a sad smile played over the lips and half -closed eyes : — the heart pressed to the heart of the child beat tranquilly. At the same moment Lightf oot entered the cavern. MAIM AX I Oi. Lxm THE BTVAL OF THE HAJLF-BSEED. HE young Indian approached the gi'oup with thi silent tread of his race, and pausing before them, folded his arms and said : "I have come to show the Mountain Dove and her companions that they have a friend." CJannie raised her head eagerly, and fixing an earnest^ blushing look upon the Indiaiiv, murmured : " Will you go away with us, Lightfoot The Indian inclined his hoad. " The tribe are going to sleep. Soon they will be slum- bering. Then I will carry you off, an j place you on the homeward path." Cannie clasped her hands and gazed so gratefully into Lightfoot's face, that the blood rushed to his cheeks, and it requiixjd aU his seK-contrd* to suppress the tremor which ran through his frame. He did suppress it, however : in a moment he bad recovered his presence of mind: and obey- ing a gesture from the girl, he came silently, and sat down near the group. Their plans were quickly communicated to him, and the expre5»sion of eye which greeted the announcement, waa one of unmistakable satisfaction. His reply wa»,, U^at their plan wu^ Ms own. He had thought at once of *lte fissure in the upper cave, and he came to prepare them for the moment when .he would silently conduct them to the place. They oonversed thus for a quarter of an hour in wbi«« «Hfi MA>STEB or GBEEWAY OOUKR 869 pern, and arranged all the details of the scheme. Ay sooxi as the sa.vages, in the lower cave were sunk in deep sleep, they would be able to put their project in execution: and as there were many indications of the fact that the braves were, one by one, yielding to their long day's journey, the realization of the hopes of the party did not seem very far distant. Lightfoot remained then, silent and motionless in bit place, Ustening with the keen ear of the Indian, to all noiseg which ascended in muffled murmurs from below. One by one these noises died away : — ^the mutterv^.d " Oughs " of the warriors, as they wrapped their blankets around them, and addressed themselves to sleep, became less and less fre- quent : — finally all sounds lapsed into silence, with the exception of the heavy breathing which indicated the slum- ber of the tribe. It was no part of the young Indian's plan, however, to carry out his enterprise at once. He was well acquainted with the echoing pecuharities of the cavern — and his de- sign was to wait patiently imtil the troubled sleep of the warriors became a very heavy, log-like insensibihty : and this would not take place for an hour or two. By that time, the sentinel also would be nodding over the fire, and they might proceed without difficulty to their undertaking. This had been communicated to the three women, and by the advice of Lightfoot, they had lain down to snatch the hasty slumber requisite to support them in their flight All obeyed, and worn out with excitement, were soon asleep. Lightfoot remained thus silent and motionless for two or three hours, wearily listening, when, all at once, a cautious step descended the winding staircase from the upper cav- ern. He rose, for this could scarcely be one of the Indianek With his hand on his knife he waited. Then at sight of the figure which appeared at the mouth of the cavom, h« uttered a low exclamation of astonishment It was the figure of Falconbridge. MO FAIBFAX CMH, Lxvm. THB HABCH OF THE HUNTEBl. ^IIE appearance of Falconbridge is easilj m* plained. Captain Wagner and his companions had no sooner crept to their hidden position on the brow of the opposite precipice, and concealed themselves beneath the heavy foliage of the dense pines, than a council of war was called. The question to be determined was a simple oi^% Should they make an attack before nightfall upon the occupants of the cavern, trusting to their superior arms, or wait until midnight, when the band was asleep, and then surprise them, and put them to the knife? Some members of the party advocated the former plan, and urged the fact that the Indians were, no doubt now, according to their invariable habit, overcome with Hquor. They had certainly carried off from the Ordinary as much rum as sufficed, by the account of the servant who had escaped — and nothing would be easier than to pile up brush at the mouth of cav- ern, set fire to it, and force the Indians to an open combat, as the alternative of being suffocated by the dense smoke. This proposition found favor with numerous members of the party, but they waited to hear the opinion of Cap- tain Wagner. The Borderer, who had Hstened attentively, and when the speaker ceased, closed his eyes, and with knit brows reflected rapidly, now shook his head, and growled . "It won't do! Friend Huger, your scheme is a good one, I don't deny, and shows that you have been after thii iort of game before — ^but there's a flaw in it, that kiUa» I THE MASTEB OF GREENWAY OOUET. 861 don't object to smokmg the copper-faced devils, and snffo eating 'em; if I could do it, I would put every Injun in America in the big cave I've heard of, in the Blue Ridge up the valley yonder, heap up whole pine trees at the mouth, get *em afire, and smoke my pipe with pleasure as I heard *em yeUing and howling in the death agony. That would be good sport, or the devil take me I But it won't do here ! fhese varmints are not the only people in the cave. " To our certain knowledge there are three ladies in the hmds of these miscreants, Mrs, Butterton, Miss Argal, and Uttle Miss Cannie from the mountain yonder, George says. Now the smoke would suffocate the women, too, and that's not a part of our plan. I accordingly reject it, as commandant of the troop, and will give my own views, which I shall carry out, unless they are met by others better. I know the * Devil's Garden ' by heart. There is a path from this ridge along the precipice, which wiU take us from one side of the gulf to the other. I propose that we wait until past mid- night, when the scoundrels will be dead asleep — and then we can make the attack. We can approach in either of two ways. The cave can be entered from the opening yonder where the two savages were talking, or through a cleft in the rock above, near the strange rock Hke a man. We may then rescue the women, and make an end of the whole party." This proposition was unanimously approved of, and the hunters concealed themselves more carefuUy, awaiting the hour when they were to commence their march along the winding path toward their enemies. The moon had risen some time before, slowly ascending like a shield of fire above the wild eastern ranges, and now poured a flood of splendor upon the gigantic pinnacle which towered above; on the yawning chasms and glinimering masses of piled up rock: on the gorges bristhng with droop- ing evergreens; and on the river which ghttered in its ray» like a writhing serpent. The great orb ihone tranquilly 16* M2 Fairfax; OB, and the yellow liglit slept on the weird scene as peac6fQll;f as though it were untenanted by mortal — not the lurking- place of deadly foes who would soon grapple in a mortal struggle. At ten paces from the rest of the hidden party, Georg« and Falconbridge conversed in low tones of their fears and hopes, and all the emotions of their hearts. Long before, indeed from the first moment of their meeting almost, they had become bosom friends: heart spoke to heart: each re- cognized a brother: and now, on the perilous border, in the wild night, with those whom they loved more than life in mortal danger, the bond of brotherood was drawn closer still, until the two natures almost were combined into one. Each trembled with vague dread of the result of the in- tended attack. Would they arrive in time? Had not the Indians, even now, put their captives to death ? Were Ber- tha Argal and Cannie Powell still breathing, or had they fallen victims, hours before, to the savage cruelty which had slain young children at the Ordinary, and dismembered the dead body of the unhappy IVIr. Argal ? So the two young men passed the long hours in shudder- ing dread — impatient, longing, panting for the contest — eager for the signal which would solve their doubts and end their fears. At last it came. Captain Wagner passed the word cau- tiously along the line, and taking the head of the party, set forward on the precipitous and almost imperceptible path which wound down the steep declivity. It was only to ba followed by careful observation, leading, as it did, beneath the dense foliage of the evergre ens, along the edge of the precipice, where the moon's rays scarcely penetrated — and more than one of the party. Minding, single file, down into the gorge, had to gTasp the droox)nig boughs to prevent themselves from being hurled into the chasm beneath. At last the bed of the small stream was reached, and thi body of hunters commenced the ascent of the towering pin* THE MASTEB OF QKEENWAT OOmBT- IiAcIe. This wonld have been entirely out of the (jih «ti r near the outer edge, which was, as v/e have said a nhfiv. precipice of five hundred feet, but at the point wIik^L the; bad reached, about a quarter of a mile from tlie i)reci})ic€ it was possible to ascend, though this even w as an iiiidei taking of great difficulty. The masses of rock in the pa^l of the party were huge and almost impassable — the taii^le^i /aderwood very nearly a complete barrier — but the triaiied and active hunters overcame all obstacles, and slowly made their way, preceded by Captain Wagner, toward the sum- mit. It was nearly daybreak. Already faint streaks began to api^ear in the eastern sky, the harbingers of dawn ; and all was more profoundly quiet in th^ wild scene than even upon the night before. At last the party reached the top, and a hui'ried consul- tation was held. The result was that an examination ol che fissure, and the entrance to the cavern beneath the man's bust, should be made, and to the latter Captain Wagner addressed himself. Falconbridge, his second in command^ repaired with a portion of the hunters to the fissm*e. He soon rea«hed it, and bidding the men await iiis re- turn, let his body down through the ya^vning aperture, into which the moon's rays plunged, and felt his feet base them- Belves upon a jutting crag near the entrance. From this abutment, he found no difficulty in picking his way, though it required great caution, into the cavern neai'est the sum- mit. From this he descended, directed by chance gleams of fire-light^ flaying upon the roof, to the next, then to the ftext; and so to the cave in which Lightfoot was wat'Ch- ing over the slumbers of Mrs. Butterton, Cannie, an I MisJi ArgaL 364 FAHUPAX; OB, LXIX rHE SON OF WAB EAOLI. 1(7?^^/ B^ghi of the young man, as we haye saidi laglitfoot, who had risen to his feet, with his w^^^ hand on his knife, uttered a low guttural excla- t&WlK^^^ ination of astonishment. The two persons, who represented so nobly the great races from which they drew their blood, remained for some moments motionless, surveying each other without speak- ing. They were strongly contrasted, and yet singularly alike in those subtler and less perceptible traits which un- derlie the mere outward appea^^ juce. There was the same fi-ank gaze, clear, penetrating, anshrinking — the look of the eagle upo]i the sun : the same proud simplicity of attitude ; the same erect carria: '6 of person. They stood thus, no inapt' representatives and types of the Caucasian and the Indian — the civilized European and the untutored North American — the court and the trackless wilderness. Their glance was not one of hostility or suspicion. Each had recognized in the other a pure and noble soul — ^but still the inevitable circumstances of their position made them use due caution. It was not two boys filled with chimerical ideas of human goodness and unwavering confidence, who stood thus, confronting each other. They were strong men— with their feelings deeply aroused — opposed at a critical moment, on a critical occasion. Lights . .t, without removiug his hand from his knife, said in a low tone ; ' Why IS the young pale-face in the heart of hi» THE MASTER OF GREENWAY COUBT. 806 ralconbridge pointed to Miss Argal, and replied : "I came to seek her." "She is your friend?" "More than my friend*" " The young man uttered the -words with such ^angcroui animation and distinctness, that Lightfoot raised his han# quickly, and said in a whisper : "Hist! Beware how you speak so loudly. The mem» bers of the tribe will wake at the noise, and your blood will flow." "I care not," returned Falconbridge, who gazed with flushed cheeks at Miss Argal as she slumbered serenely, a happy smile playing fitfully upon her lips ; " so she is saved from the diaboHcal cruelty of these savage beasts, I count my own life as nothing." The words affected Lightfoot like a blow. His head rose haughtily, and he fixed upon Falconbridge one of those burning glances which seem to measure the foe — as a tiger measures the enemy upon whom he is about to spring. But the emotion of rage was plainly instinctive. It did not last. The expression of menace disappeared almost as quickly as it came, and a deep sadness fell Hke the shadow of a cloud on the flashing eyes and proud Up. With droop- ing head, the Indian murmured : " Be silent 1 I am the son of War Eagle, and in otheif days the blood of him who uttered such words would have run out of his heart ! But my heart is changed. Lightfoot no longer stril/,es in this quarrel. His heart says, ' Yes, my tribe in cmo?, fm bloody * — but he is still a Catawba, a chief. Let the young pale-face respect the feelings of a chief." The noble voice went to the heart of Fa^^conbridge. Hia cheeks reddened with impulsive shame, at thus wounding, onnecessariiy, the feelings of his companion. He stretched out his hand, and said, frankly : " I would beg forgiveness — I meant not to hurt you, son ^ War Eagle. Let us speak not as foes, but as brothers 806 FAIRFAX; OB, for I know, I feel, that you are here as the protector of women and children. I would know that even if one of those children were not this one before mb," And he pointed to Cannie. The Indian gravely took the proffered hand, and then said : "Does the young pale-face come to rescue the young woman ?" "Yes/* " Does he come alone ?" And the penetrating eyes of the Indian chief looked full into the eyes of his companion. Falconbridge replied, with ready presence of mind, that he alone had made his way to the cavern. He felt instinctively that in this critical mo- ment, when the aid of Lightfoot was of inestimable value, it would be wholly unnecessary and equally cruel to present to him the tragic alternative of acting with his own tribe against the whites, or with his adopted people against the Indians. He evaded thus the question, and added quickly : "What plan of escape have you devised?" Lightfoot, in low, rapid tones^ explained everything, and added: " The hour has nearly arrived. The band are sleeping — I will go and reconnoitre. But before the son of War Eagle goes, let him say to the young pale face that his tribe are not wholly fierce and cruel — they are very noble often, though their eyes are different from the eyes of th© whiteii The Good Spirit made the world of land and water, and val- ley and mountain — ^he traced out the rivers, and rolled round the seasons, through the hours of unremembered years, for all the tribes of aU the mighty nations. He gave to one of these great tribes, the whites, another land — to us he gave the prairies blooming with a hundred flowers — the great wide forests — the pathless lakes- and lofty mountaina We lived in the prairies, and upon the mountains — we pad- dled on the lakea The Evil Spirit often made us fight witl THX UABTSSB OV GBSICKWAY COUKT. 361 BBiA other; bni not always. Then came the pale-fuoes, an3 they dyed the soil with the blood of braves. Wherever an Indian met a white, he met an enemy — it was life or death. This has made all the tribes so bloody — this makes the Evil Spirit laugh, and triumph. The son of War Eagle felt his heart turn cold within him — he wandered from his tribe — one day a prophet of the whites spoke to him of the Son of the Great Spirit, and he listened. Then he left his people, and became a believer. To-day he would not bear his knife against either — ^he would turn away, and bury his sufferings in silence. If the knife strikes him, let it strike—he will die a Christian chief of the Catawbas I" "With these words, th^ young Indian left the cavern, and noiselessly descending the winding stair to the cave be- neath, disappeared from the eyes of his companion. Fal- oonbridge looked after him for a moment, then hastily going to Miss Argal's side, laid his hand upon her arm. The young lady opened her eyes, and gave a quick start, as she saw Falconbridge. Then covering her face with her hands, she murmured with burning blushes. ''Do not speak to me — I am not worthy." 868 fAIBFAX; OB. CHAPTER LXX. TH.E CONFESSION. ALCONBRIDGE displayed an emotion ever greater than that of his companion. His face flushed with passionate emotion, and his breast heaved, as he gazed upon the woman whom he loved, even more than ever it seemed to him, now that she was helpless and surrounded by bloody enemies. The nature of this man was one of those which remem- bers the good and forgets the bad. He no longer recalled the terrible wrong which the young lady had inflicted upon him — ^he no longer thought of her as the woman who had trifled with him, broken his heart, and laughed in his face when he suffered. She was only the poor stiicken girl whose will and heart were diseased by an awfnl visitation of the Supreme Ruler of the universe — he thought of her, as »he struggled in her father's arms that day, and cried, " 7 .oved him only — as she looked when she came with streaming eyes, and broken accents, and prayers for pardon^ to return his mother's ring. As he ooked at her now, and heard her murmur, "Do not speak to me — I am not worthy/* his heart was filled with an inexpressible love and pity.** Of the feelings of the young lady herself, it is scarcely necessary to speak. The change which had taken place in her whole being has been described — we have rapidly touched upon, with a sort of fear, at undertaking such a picture, the scene when another light than that of earth il- luminated the gioom}^ depths of her soul: — and we know thus what she felt in looking upon the victim of her untruth and cruelty. She scarcely dared to meet his eyes, and turned awaj THE MASTEB OF GREENWAY COUBH 86J) corering her blushes of shame, as we have said, with hei hands. For more than a minute Falconbridge did not speak — emotion had overcome him. Then he regained his self- possession^ and said: "Do you think that I remember the past, with bitternesef No, I do not. Look up, it is a faithful, dovoted friend who speaks to you.'* " How can I ?" murmured the young lady, removing hes hands from her face, but averting her head; "I am fiUei with such shame, sir, that it almost kills me !" " Do not speak thus I Do not even refer to the past I** " I must,'* she said in a low tone, glancing with unutter- able sadness at him, and then looking away again, " I must, Mr. Falconbridge, for I have acted toward you in so base a manner, that it almost breaks my heart to think of it. But do not think too cruelly of me ! One of my bitterest pangs, even here in this gloomy place, where I have so much else to make me miserable, is the recollection of my dishonorable conduct toward yoursel£ Do not interrupt sir,'' she said, as he was about to speak, and gazing now with sorrowful and shrinking modesty into hie face; do not stop me, Mr. Falconbridge. You know I am a poor insane creature, and I know not whether I shaU have the mind or memory to speak as I vrish to speak to you, if I do not go on now. I say, that I have been guilty of dishonor to you, and I mtist confess it all, before I can feel that you have forgiven it— I do not know if you can. Tou came to the Valley, and from our first meeting I determined to engage your affection, that I and my father might be compelled to live no longer in this solitude. I practiced upon you those wiles which it is the sad misfortune of woman to possess — I succeeded in my aim — and then I deceived you, basely, dishonorably, shame- fuUyr Her face was crimson as she spoke. The effort which she made in thus speaking, was plainly immense, passioiiai^ craeL 470 FAIBFAX; OB) met Lord Fairfax/* she went on, " md I broke mj faith with you — I treated you as no lady can treat a gentleman without degrading herself; I sneered at you when you com- plained; turned my back when you remonstrated; when you begged me with that deep love which should have been my pride, and honor, to be true to my plighted word, I laughed in your face. Mi\ Palconbridge !" said the young lady with quivering lips and hands which trembled so much that they were almost unable to put back the mass of raven curUl which fell over her face, " Mr. ralconbridge, it almost kiila me to utter these words ! — it makes me sick at heart ! — am so humiliated and degraded in my own eyes, that I could sink through the earth for shame! But I must speak I Yes, sir I behaved toward the most honorable and noble gentleman I've ever known in a manner which I can scarcely believe as I think of it — I repeat it, with base, base dis- honor 1 — and on my knees I beg, I pray your forgiveness I Stop, Mr. Falconbridge I — do not speak — ^let me add what I know you are thinking at this moment — let me tell yoa my only excuse for this terrible conduct. But I need not — see in your eyes that you have recalled it. Oh, yes, sirl that is my sole excuse — it is something, is it not, sir? I was only a poor miserable creature — ^with my head whirling, my mind unsound — my heart depraved and awfully wicked ! I was not always so, sir! Once I was true and pure — mamma taught me to be good and tender — ^but x could nol remain so ! Against my better nature I acted with awful de- ception — I wounded you, and made you suffer without pity I "-but — ^but, through it all — can scarcely find strength to confess it, for you may misunderstand me — it escaped me, papa says, in that mad attack which you witnessed — ^I— loved you, — ^Edmund! — as you -soved me- -with my whole, entire heart 1 — ^you only ! Do not think me umnaidenly !** she sobbed, turning away, and blushing to the roots of her hair; ''do not think that I wish you to return to met Xhai ' THE MASTEE OP GREEKWAY COURT. ' 371 can never be, i E you even desired it ! We must part forever, after this terrible night ! We can never meet more, but I juu changed, and I can pray for you — I can pray to God tc forgive me my great sin — as I pray you humbly to do so — you, whom I have wronged so terribly and basely!" Slie stoppei, sobbing convulsively, — overcome by the wo- ful confession, so repugnant to a woman: shaken by a depth and poignancy of shame and anguish which no words can de- scribe. And Falconbridge was as i:)assionately moved as herself, Her words had struck him like sharp axTows, recalling as they did aU his suffering, his long agony, his despair. This wu^J not the dominant feeling in the breast of the young man, however. An imutterable compassion and tenderness made his heart throb. His frame trembled, and he vainly essayed to speak. In a few moments, however, he had mastered his agitation, and had opened his hps, when suddenly Lightfoot stood beside them. " Come 1 — there is no moment to lose 1" said the Indian in a low, quick v^ice, " the sentinel is asleep, and the day is DreakingT* The Indian cautiously awoke Mrs. Buttertonand Cannie as he spoke — and then silently rose from their couches. Falconbridge had only time to bend over Miss Argal, to press her hand to his lips and say in a deep broken voice : ''I forgive you from my heart! May God forgive all thy sins as completely!" Sn iJJKtAX ; Oft. LXXL THE FLiaHT« HE three women quickly made iheir prepaid- tioiis. and signified their readineflfe io ll/ilow theijf guides. Lightfoot went in front, cautioning the memo bers of the party, in a low tone, to make nonoiso; andthua gliding like shadows, they ascended the first flight of steps, leading to the next cavern above. There, Lightfoot paused a moment to listen. His quick ear seemed to have caught some shght sound of hostile im- port. Bending his head, like a crouching wild animal, his keen eyes plunged into the haLf-darknees, his acute ears strove to discern the repetition of the noise. It seemed to have existed only in his imagination; and with a sUent movement ol the hand, he motioned to the party to fol- low. The ascent became steeper and more difficult. In more than one place the steps of the huge staircase were wanting, and the women had to be lifted in the arms of their compan- ions. Falconbridge and Lightfoot, it may easily be b6 tieved, experienct^d singular emotien as the forms of those whom they loved were thus clasped in their arms, resting upon their hearts. The young Indian was stiU agitated by the cruel scene of his disappointment in the cavern: his face glowed as he hfted the girl, and with all the respect and tenderness of a brother, placed her safely upon the ledge above. And if -such an emotion invaded the breast of Light- footy what a rush of painful delight must Falconbhdgo have THB ItASTEB Oif GBEiil^WAi: OOUBTL 878 Mt, as MSss Argal's clieek nearly touched his cwn, as het dark curls brushed against his bosom ! But it was no time for reflection — ^no time to indulge tiiese inevitable emotions of the youthful heart. The mo- ments rushed onward, winged with terrible peril — all was at •take; the issues of life and death must soon be decided. The party hurried onward as rapidly as the broken and fagged pathway would permit. They had ascended thus very nearly to the entrance, and were mounting the last pre- cipitous staircase leading to the fissure in the pavement above, beyond which lay hope, freedom, life. Lightfoot again raised Caxinie, and then assisted Mrs. Butterlon to ascend. Falconbridge held out his arms forlVIiss Ai^gal, and she obeyed his gesture. The young man and the girl were thus clasped, as it were in each other's embrace, when a roar like that of a furious wild beast was heard, and followed by tYv^enty Indians, the Half-breed rushed up the staircase. He had gone to seek Miss Algal, had discovered the escape of the three women, and hastily calling to his companions, followed them. He had arrived just in time to see Miss Argal clasped to the bosom of Falconbridge, and the sight aroused in hin: the furious devU of blood and death. By a superhuman bound he reached the plateau beneath the fissure, just as the three women were thrust upward by their companions — ^but in spite of his reckless daring he recoiled. Falconbridge had seized a huge mass of rock, and lifting it above his head, hurled it downward. The Half-breed avoided it by a movement to one side as rapid as Ughtniag, and it rebounded from the jagged floor, burst into fragments, and sent throughout the gloomy caverns a sombre roar, echoing and rebellowing from side to side. Lightfoot and Falconbridge took instant advantage of the diversion, and passing through the opening, found them- selves in the air abrwe, in the midst of the painty of hunteri who were rushing to their assistance. FiiBPAX; OB, ITie Xndians appeared at the fissure, fchoir ted faces di# tortcd v/ith rage and ferocity — above all, the hideous coun- fcenance of the Half-Breed, which resembled that of some horrible demon, wild with rage and disappointment. But at sight of the hunters armed to the teeth, with levelled rifles, the heads disappeared, amid cries of fury and fear. A volley fi^om the whites followed, and a howl frcm the cav- ern replied to it. More than one of the savages had been killed by the unerring balls. Then a new phenomenon appeared. At the moment when the hunters were hastily reloading their pieces, a dense cloud of lurid smoke rose slowly through the fissure, and as- cended in the first rays of morning. Captain Wagner's quick eye had discerned, from his position at the mouth of the cavern, the escape of the captives — he had quickly heaped together vast quantities of dry boughs — these had been set on fire, and in the midst of the thick smoke his men advanced to the attack. The smoke swept upward toward the more elevated cav- ern in which the entire tribe, by this time, were assembled. Thus the captives huddled together upon the lower floor were unhaimed. Their bonds were quickly cut, and the women escaped — the men seized arms from the floor and joined the whites. At the head of his party, thus swollen in numbers, Cap- tain Longknife rushed up the staircase of the cavern, firing his pistols. Volleys from the hunters behind him were add- ed — and very soon they had arrived within sight of the fis- «ure. The huge borderer presented an appearance almost fright- ful. His shaggy black hair and beard were singed by the flames — his bulky form looked gigantic amid the clouds ol smoke — with his immense sabre whirled above his head, he struck right and left with a fury which made him resemble •ome mad giant of the old mythology. More than once the cry ui Longknife! Longknife T is- THE mffrm of oeeenwat oottbt. midd from the terrified savages, who seemed to regard him with superstitious awe and horror. They recoiled before him, and crowded tumultuouslj toward the fissure. At every moment the advancing hunters stumbled over dead bodies — they breathed heavily in the lurid smoke: but with wild shouts and discharges of fire-arms rushed upward. The black fissure then disgorged before the eyes of tha party above, a furious crowd of savages. Their enendei followed, and in an instant the final struggle commenced upon the plateau of the gigantic pinnacle, which now stona brightly in the light of day. •76 FAIRFAX 4«| Lxxn. TBS BORDERER AND THE HALF-BBEED. HE struggle was fuiious, horrible, mortal. All the most intense and acrid passions, which agitate the human soul, were spurred to wild and incredible activity, and the combatants seemed to have made up their minds to conquer or die, without thought of retreat or flight. The enemies were nearly a perfect match. It is true, that the Indians exceeded the hunters in numerical strength, but the superiority of the arms used by the latter gave them a decided advantage, and more than made up for the in- equality of numbers. The area upon which they contended ^ — ^the summit of the dizzy precipice — was limited, and thus the whites fought under favorable cii'cumstancerS, for they could not easily be surrounded. Captain Wagner led the party of hunters: and beside him Falconbridge advanced into the press, dealing such blows with his sword that every opponent went down before him. The two men seemed possessed with the battle ardor in its fuUest extent — that fury of the soul which animates the blood of men, as animal ferocity does the blood oi beasts, turning the mildest human beings into wolves and tigers. Captain Wagner did not lose his presence of mind, however. He led his men with the reckless courage of on€ who commands a forlorn hope; but with the cool general- ihip, also, of a veteran campaigner. He advanced, step by •tep, beating down every opponent — delivering his ordew bi a kmd, strident tone, which rose above tli« oproar — aad THE MASTEB OF GBEKKWAY OOUBT. 877 toibracing, eyen at the instant when he gave his blows, the entire field of action at a glance. FalcoBbridge was beside him — and beside Falconbridge wasf George, The youth was thoroughly aroused. Hia habitual calmness and amiabihty had completely difih Uppeared. His head was tossed back with fearless prid% and in his heaving bosom, his burning eyes, his lips se^ dose together, might have been seen the evidences of a na« ture of immense depth and strength — of dauntless will — oi inflexible hardihood and determination. There was Ho longer anything of the boy about him— he was the fuU- armed warrior, rejoicing in the deadly contest. His sword descended with unerring precision upon the writhing pha- lanx of Indian warriors, and he was beside Falconbridge wherever he advanced. It was in the midst of this mad struggle, that aU at once, George heard a woman scream — and this scream he recog- nized as issuing from the lips of Cannie. It was so wild and piercing, so filled with distress and anguish, that the yoimg man's heart turned cold with apprehension. With a hurried assurance to Falconbridge that he would return in an instant, George threw himself backward, and clearing at a single bound, two or three dead bodies, rushed in the direction of the spot from which he had heard the cry oi distress. A few words will explain it. Cannie, Mrs. Butterton, and Miss Argal, had been hastily conducted to the rear of a large mass of rock, on the east- em edge of the plateau, not far from the curious granite bust, in order to screen them from the balls of the savages a large portion of whom carried rifles and pistols, procured from the dwellings which they had plundered on their march. A cleft in the rock afforded a favorable hiding- place, and in this cleft, accordingly, the three women erouched, listening with terror, to the noises of the desper- irta eonlliot Benda ihem Idghtfoot leaned, with folded 878 FAIRFAX; OK, arms^ depressed head, and heaying bosom, against tba rock. A terrible struggle was going on in his breast. AB the old instincts of the savage chieftain were aroused with- in him, by the din of the combat — ^by the clashing weapons, the discharge of fire-arms, the yells and shouts, as the ene- mies closed in the mortal contest. His limbs trembled — a ghiidder passed thrcugh his frame — and his glowing eyes resembled balls of fire. But those eyes were not directed toward the place of combat — ^his nervous fingers did not clutch the weapon at his girdle. He could take no part against either of the bands, for neither was his foe. He was a Catawba, it is true, but he was also a friend of the whites — a Christian; and to terminate any indecision which he felt, came the thought that his presence was necessary to the safety of Cannie. Thus he curbed the wild battle instinct raging in his breast — suppressed the tremor which agitated his frame ; his feet rooted themselves in their place, and with folded amis he awaited the end of the contest. The three women were less capable of controlling their feelings. They Ustened with terror to the shouts and dis- chfc.rges. Every rifle shot, to their excited imaginations, rung the death-knell of the person for whom they felt the deepest sohcitude. Above all, Cannie thought of George, and the peril in which he must be, with blanched cheeks, and eyes full of wild anguish. She saw him pale and bleed- ing, beneath the tramphng feet — ^her imagination conjured up, for itself, a horrible spectacle — and unable longer to bear the terrible suspense, she rose to her feet, passed hastily by Lightfoot, and going to the edge of the rock, looked toward the combatp.nts. As she reached the point, she suddenly recoiled with that cry of terror which George had heard and obeyed. An Indian, with a hideous scovi'l upon his features, met her face to face, and raised above her head a long, glitter- ing knife, which descended like a flash of lightning toward her boMun. THK MASTEB OF GREENWAY OOtTBT. 879 But the weapon did not bury itself in her heart It found another sheath. Lightfoot had seen her peril — hia face flushed crimson — and arriving at the spot, with a sin- gle bound, he had thrown himself between the girl and the descending knife. It entered his bosom, and buried itself to the very hilL The savage recognized his brother warrior, and chief, too late, and uttering a howl of terror at his action, disap- peared in the direction of the main contest, at the moment when George reached the side of the girL Cannie had thrown her arms wildly around the young Indian, vainly endeavoring to sustain him from falUng. Her strength was unequal to the task, however; Lightfoot tottered faintly, raised his eyes to heaven, and extending his arms, fell backward, dragging the girl with him, to the earth. George hastened to their assistance, but he had come too late. The weapon had evidently inflicted a mortal wound. Almost faiQtiQg at the awful sight, at the pale, calm face, and half -closed eyes of the d^ing man, Cannie supported his form in her arms, and looked up at George with an ex- pression in her eyes which haunted him to the day of his death. There was in it such a depth of anguish, a tender- ness so profound and passionate, thai the young man felt tiis cheeks flush in unison with the girl's emotion, and hia pulses throb. Cannie spoke to the dying man in quick, hun-ied tone«j which were scarcely recognizable. She bedewed his fore- head with her tears — besought him to speak to her — and used every means to arouse him, and recall him to con- sciousness. Miss Argal and Mrs. Butterton hastened to her assistance — and all three of them chafed his brow and hands. It was of no avail — the young Indian exhibited no eigjos of life beyond a faint movement of the chest — and fleorgesaw, with inexpressible anguish, that his friend waa dyifig, As he gazed ftt the serene face, drooping langaidjj 880 FAIBFAX; 0B| toward the bare shoulder, at the eyes yeiled by their long black lashes, at the slowly heaving bosom, which, at every puleation, forced a few drops of the Indian's life-blood through the wound, the young man's throat seemed to ©hoke with tears, and a groan issued from his lips. But it was no time to indulge in regrets. The combat in which his friends were engaged, began to roar more furi- ously than before. Tlie cries of his companions recalled him to the contest; and at the moment when he roused himself to a consciousness of his duty, these shouts were redoubled, and repUed to from the slope, by which the peak was reached. A quick glance in the direction of these latter cries, re- vealed their origin. At the distance of a quarter of a mile Lord Fairfax, who had found the trail of the hunters, was seen sweeping onward toward the pinnacle, followed by twenty mounted men, who plunged their spurs into their foaming animals, and rushed upward, to the relief of their friends. The sight banished completely the softer emotion which George had experienced. His face flushed again with the animal instinct of war — and hastily stooping, he raised the languid body of Lightfoot in his arms, and bore it to the cleft in the rock, where the women could minister to him, if he revived, without danger from the bullets of the enemy. He then bade them, in humed accents, keep close within their place of concealment; and in the midst of a hundred frantic shouts, hastened back to the scene of contest. The Indians^ in his absence, had been slowly driven back, rtep by step, and were beginning to revolve the propriety of flight, when they heard the cries of the party coming up the mountain. Ac the same moment another incident took place, which completed their despair, depriving them of all "heart of hope Captain Wagner, as we have said, plunged, at the head oi his men into the very centre of the savages, and with bis THS IfASTSB OF ORBElfWAY OOUSH 381 sabre^ of immense weight and length of blade, hewed down every opponent who stood in his path. Breathing hoarsely, dealing gigantic blows with a ferocity now thoroughly aroused, pjid shakiag from him, so to speak, as a bear shakefl off the dogs, the most powerful warriors who assailed him, he had left behind him a long train of dead or dying, who had bit the dust beneath his arm. He was destined, how* ever, to find a foeman worthy of his steel. This was the powerful Half-breed, who had hitherto fought in another part of the press, but who now advanced toward /;he sol- dier, uplifting, with both hands, a huge axe, which he had seized from a pile of stolen utensils in the cavern. The countenance of the Half-breed resembled, at this moment, the mask of a fiend, or rather the veritable physi- ognomy of a demon incarnate, let loose upon the material earth. His eyes were blood-shot, and burned with a lurid lustre, suggestive of blood and death. His hideous mouth was distorted into a sneer, which rendered it a thousand times more repulsive ; on his broad chest, and enormous HXU^A, the muscles stood out like knots, or excrescences. He advanced straight upon Captain Wagner, and aimed a terrible blow at his head — a blow which would have felled the most powerful ox. The soldier parried it with hia sword, but the result was unhappy for him. The sabre yielded to the immense stroke, and snapped within six inches of the hilt. The Half-breed uttered a howl of triumph, and throwing hds chest backward, whirled the axe with both hands, and all his strength, above his head, delivering the blow with the full swing of the deadly weapon. But he had met an enemy as wary and self-possessed as bimself. The axe did not descend. With a boimd of as- tonishing rapidity, Wagner leaped upon the Half-breed, and seized him by the wrist and throat. The axe was no longer of any use to him — the grasp upon his throat required the ase of his hands — with another howl, more furious than the forTv>-'« ^T-- novas^e dropped the weapon and clutched hist 882 FAIRFAX OB, Then commenced a struggle awful for its ferocity and tliQ mortal determination of the combatants. It was a contest foi life or death, and each felt that the resultmust be doubtful Both were men of immense physical strength — both arouhse J to the last fury of passionate hatred; neither gained, at firsts any advantage. The superior stature of Captain Wagner counted in his favor; but the deformed Half-breed had trained his huge muscles, by constant exercise, until they were as hard and elastic as steel; and this more than balanced his want of height. He wrapped himself around the frame of the Bor- derer like a deadly boa-constrictor, tightening the gr^sp of his crooked arms and legs, and striving, it seemed, to mish the breastbone of his adversary. Thus locked in a deadly embrace, the enemies made gi- gantic efforts to terminate the stniggle. The Half-breed had no arms — having discharged his pistols, and dropped bis knife and tomahawk in. the melee. The Borderer had a knife, but it was tangled in his belt, and he could not draw it, until his foe was prostrate beneath him, and his own arms free from the paralyzing pressure. They staggered from side to side, stumbling and nearly falling over the dead bodie^is; writhing like wild animals, and uttering hoarse growls; exerting their great strength to an extent almost supernatural in the breast to breast contest for life. Then a new and more terrible feature was added to the struggle. Step by step they had detached themsehes from the rest of the combatants, and now tliey found thomsolvos rapidly approaching the ledge of rock which ran around the brink of the precipice. The Borderer's back was turned to it, and he was not aware of his peril until it was almost too late to guard against it. He heard, at the instant, a .sort of hissing growl, and a sudden and diabolical grin dlf4tori.ed the face of the Half-breed. Breathing heavily, and gnash- ing lii.s boar-like tusks, ho forced his eneray toward the dizzy precipice, and suddenly, as they reached the very rcrge, buried his sharp teeth in the Borderer's tliroat THE KASTEB OF GBSEKWAl OOUBT. 38d "Wagner uttered a hoarse cry, and staggered back. The dog-like bite, deep into kis throat, had taken him unawares, and nearly paralyzed him. His head gi*ew dizzy, his right hand released its hold upon the Half-breed: clinging Uke a tdger^ to the Borderer's throat, the mahgnant savage pushed him, inch by inch, to the verge. A glance behind him showed the soldier his awful peril He saw the sheer descent of five hundred feet beneath him, the plateau at its foot, a bed of shattered rocks: and upon that plateau, his mangled corpse would be lying in three seconds, unless he could disengage the hideous monster's teeth from his throat. His brain reeled. A shudder passed through his frame — and a sort of chill invaded his breast. The heart of*' this man, who had braved a thousand perils, who had led his men into the bloodiest gulfs of battle, who had set his Ufe, a hundred times, upon the hazard of the die, without giving so much as a thought to the event — ^the heart of this stal- wart soldier, who had never felt fear in the midst of any danger, now recoiled and died within him at this horrible thought — at the idea of death in a shape so hideous and revolting. He summoned all his remaining strength, and made a final effort to hurl from him the monster, whose fangs were buried in his bleeding throat. The effort was vain. The jagged teeth clung closer still — their gi*ip was firmer, and they gnawed at the quiveiing flesh vdth hound-like ferocity. The Borderer uttered a stifled cry, and let fail his other arm, w^ith which he had endeavored to repel his enemy. The act preserved him. The Half-breed had forced his opponent to the very brink, and was about to hurl him over, when he felt a blade, keen and mortal in its stroke, enter his breast* The Borderer's hand had fallen upon the knife in his belt — he had drawn it and struck. The mon- ster's hold relaxed, the teeth clutched at his enemy's throat 884 FAIBFAX; OB, Captain Wagner had just strength enongh to reooTM himself. His body oscillated, as it were, upon the brink; and he staggered back, as the hideous form of the Half^ breed disappeared like a mass hurled from some war-like engine in the yawning chasm, where it was dashed to pieces upon the rocks. As the Borderer turned from the terrible contest, wiping his streaming brows, and breathing heavily, he saw the In- dians give way. Then, all at once, with loud shouts and the discharge of pistols and carbines, the pai'ty, headed by Lord Fairfax, bore down upon them, and completed the rout: — the remnant of the band disappeared in the foresti with howls of hatred and despair. At the same moment the sun rose above the eastera Enountain, and poured his tranquil light upcn the speotodd sf Uood and dastk TBM M18TEE OF GBEENWAT COUBX Lxxm. THE TOiniG DIDIAir. T the month of the cleft in the rock, where th# women had coiicenled themse hes, Cannie holds upon her breast the head of Lightfoot, who ia dying. The young chief exhibits no evidences of suffering — no tear of lii« impending fate. His countenance is calm and tmtroubled; his eyes are SUpaI with a serene, happy light; the courage of his race and his new-found faith, have come to nerve him for the journey through the vale of shadows. As he looks up into the face of the young girl, who gazes at him with inexpressible anguish and compassion, a faint smile wanders over his countenance, and a sigh escaping from the parted lips, seems to indicate deep happiness. " The Dove of the Mountain ia imhurt," he murmurs ; • the head of the son of War Eagle rests upon her heart I Has the day dawned, Mountain Dove, and is the combat ovei ? Have the children of the Catawbas gone away T* " Yes," murmured Cannie with a sob. The India53^ caught the almost imperceptible sound, and said : "Why do you cry? Is your heart sad for me? Do not cry for me— -I am not unhappy — oh, no, not unhappy !" " You are dying, Lightfoot," returned the girl, suppress- ing, by a violent effort, a rush of tears. "Dying? Yes, that is true, little Dove," he said; "but ia ihat anything ta grieve at? The world is very dark and sad, and I go from it to another land where there is never any darkness. You gave me this hope and happmess, for you taught me what to believe, and what my duty waa Without you, I should never have been anything but ao Indian warrior-— I am dying, bat I am happy." 17 886 VAIRFAX; OIL " And for me ! oh, you are dying for me !** exclaimed th* girl, nearly beside herself with angiiish; * you gave your life to protect me from that blow. Would I had died be- fore yon — in your place, Lightfoot — dear, dear Lightfoot; my heart is breaking as I think " She stopped, nearly suffocated by emotion, and crying bitterly. "Do not weep!" said the Indian, earnestly, with glowing cheeks; *'you wound me ! I thank the Master that he per- mitted the poor Indian to save the Httle friend who gave him the great hope of another land 1 See the sun! there he rises ! Before he rests in the mountains the son of War Eagle will be smiling as he stands in the pre«en^^ the Master of Life!" As he spoke, a slight convulsion passed over his frame, and his eyes began to grow dreamy and absent. The girl saw, through her tears, mth a sudden chill at the heart, that his mind had commenced to wander, as the spirit does when it approaches death* *'0h, yes!" she exclaimed, "you will stand in the pres* ence of God, and he wiU smile upon you, for you are pure and good~oh, so good and kind, dear, dear Lightfoot! You are dying because you protected a poor child, and the Saviour will receive and bless you I" "Ah!" murmured the Indian, his head slightly droop- ing, " was that my father's whisper ? Does War Eagle talk from the happy hunting-grounds to his child ? I wiU go to meet him !" And the young chief attempted to rise, but fell back faintly. " No, no 1" cried the girl in a low, frightened tone, and trembling, "do not try to rise — lean on me — you are dy- ing, Lightfoot I" The words an-ested his failing attention, and he looked up into her eyes with a sad smile. "JJyingr he aaid faintly; "do you say that the son of TBS HASTBK OF GBEENWAT OOTTSK 887 War Eagle is dying? Yes — ^now I see, I remember! Ihd knife ! You are the Mountain Dove, are you not, little one? I loved you — did I not try to save you? I thought — ^bat that shadow! Why does it creep so slowly, slowly? And the wind ! Is it the wind or the voices of other years in the forest where I roamed as a chief of the Catawbas ? It is a brave, great tribe — the son of War Eagle is a chief I There, the wind again — and it blows from the mountain where the old man lives with the maiden. Is that a rose in your hair, little Dove, and who is wandering with you? A youth of the palefaces ! He is a noble-looking boy, but he can never love you as the poor Indian loved you. You are more to him than the skies and rivers, than the prairie and the forest — you are his life; without you he would die!" A glow came to the face, upon which the pallor of death was slowly settling. By a last eJffort, he raised his drooping head, with a parting gleam in the joyful eyes, and it fell back upon her shoulders with the face turned upward to the Bky. **It was not the wind!" he murmui^ed, close to her ear; " it is my father, who is whispering to his child, and blesses me as I go. Do you hear — *My son dies well!' Yes, the son of War Eagle, the child of the Catawbas dies well, since he dies for the little Dove. Farewell, I am going to the Master! — the sun, how it shines ! — how the Master smiles!" And the voice died aw^ay. "With a bright light on his face, the young chief fell back into the arms of Cannie, and expired upon her bosom. At the distance of ten paces, and not far from the strange granite bust. Lord Fairfax held, in the same manner, up >n his breast, the heM of Falconbridge, who was dying in lua arms. Within five yards of the young man lay the body of IJ«r- tba Argal— beautiful in death as in life* Lxxrv. THB YOUNG CAVALIER. EE young girl who lias played so woeful a pftii in our drama — who, under the influence cl some Fatality, it would seem, had wrecked in their freshest bloom the hopes and happiness ol a noble heart — this child of error and unhappy weakness, had blotted out the record of her fault, by one supreme and all-embracing act of courage and devotion. She had sacrificed her life in the vain attempt to pre- serve that of her lover. It was at the moment m^^^BB Lord Fairfax was ascending the slope, when Captaii;;; 7 :agner was struggling with the Half-breed, that Falconbfatlge, finding himself nearly sur- rounded by a number of the savages, retreated, fighting desperately, toward a rock,, against which he designed to place his back. The tide of conflict had rolled in another direction, and borne George and his companions from his side; he wa« thus left alone to oppose his enemies. Thus contending with all the desperatii^n of a knight oi the Middle Agm surrounded by a cloud of Saracens, Fal- eonbridge rt;treated, step by step, toward the rock which we have mentioned — on the op^Dosite side of which was the oleft in which Miss Argal and the two others were con- cealed. Oannie and ]\Irs. Butterton were bending over Lightfoot, and did not hear the clash of Falconbridge's weapon, as ha parried the blows aimed at hin. But Miss Argal heard it MB MASTER OT OREENWAY COtTRT. 889 -^and sometliing in her heart told her that the man whom ■he loved was in danger. With the impulsive and daring girl, to determine was to act. She hastily l^ft the hiding-place, and passing round the rock, found herself in the midst of the Indians. She did not look at them. Her burning eyes were fixed upon the youth, who contended single-handed against his adversaries. At the same instant she saw the Indians draw back, as by a concerted movement — one of them, who was behind, levelled his rifle at the breast of Falconbridge — and fire leaped from the muzzle. The ball which was intended for the young man, entered the bosom of Miss ArgaL With the activity of a tigress whose young is threatened, the girl had bounded forward, and thrown one arm round his neck, protecting his body with her own. He heard the dischargt> — ^the young girl's wild cry ol anguish; he felt her form weigh heavily upon his breast. An awful horror for a moment made his heart ice — ^but then the blood rushed back like a torrent of raging fire. With the hoarse cry of a lion lashed to fury, he deposited the form of the girl upon the ground, and throwing himself with insane rage upon the crowd of savages, plunged his Bword right and left into every breast which opposed him. His mad passion was so frightful and deadly, his face so terrible in its menace, that the bravest of the savages re- coiled before him with superstitious dread. But the unseen Kuler of the world had decreed that aH the courage, aU the strength, all the immense passion of Falconbridge should avail him nothing; his last hour ap- proached. In his headlong advance, his foot slipped in blood; he fell upon one knee, and his sword striking against the rocks, was broken close to the hilt. As he essayed to rise, one of the savages levelled his pistol, and the ball en- tered his breast. With a last look toward the sky, Falconbridge, lik« 390 FAIBPAX; OB, Lightfoot, fell backward, the blood welling from tlie woQnd^ and staining liis wliite ruffles with crimson. The Indians had begun to waver already, as they saw the advance of Lord Fairfax ; the form of the Half-breed had disappeared in the gulf beneath ; as Falconbridge fell, they hastily retreated, and finally disapj)6ared down the slope beneath tlie boughs of the evergreens. When Lord Fairfax leaped from his horse, the first object which greeted his gaze, was the body of Falconbridge. He • seized it in his arms with a hoarse cry, and at the pressure of the father's heart to the son's, the young man opened his eyes and gazed about him faintly. " My son ! my child !" cried the Earl, with inexpressible anguish; "my boy, speak to me 1 Where are you wound- ed? Oh 1 in the bosoj3C fei?re 1" And with trembling. hA% rapid hands, the Earl tore open the young man's waistcoat and shirt. Pushing hastily aside a small gold locket which hung from Falconbridge's neck by a fine steel chain, he se«.rched for the wound. He did not search long ; turning suddenly pale, the Earl seemed about to faint. Lnmediately over the heart, a circular spot of blood indi- cated the place where the ball had entered. He saw that all was over. His knowledge of gunshot wounds told him this one was mortal — and turning away his head, the stern old nobleman uttered a sob which tore its way from his inmost heart, like a cry of agony and des- pair. "Yes, yes!" said a panting and broken voice at his el- bow, "yes, friend, you are right; you are not deceived; he's as good as gone from this earth ! Falconbridge ! Falcon- bridge I look at me once more, comrade 1 It is Wagner that ftpeaks to you 1" And the rude Borderer, who had hastened with giant Btrides to the spot, threw himself upon his knees at the side of the young mm, and inclosed his pale hand in i grasp of iron. THB MASTEB OJT GBBEimAT COUBT 891 **Loolc at me, comrade I" growled the Captain, in hosirm and tragic accents, "you see me, don't you? Come, open your eyes! Tm Wagner, tlie old bear that loved you, and here's George, who's got hold of your other hand. Don't be talking, for your wound is sure to bleed, only look up, companion! Black day! miserable hourl" groaned the speaker despairingly; "a bullet has done for him— all's oyer with the boy I" Ab he spoke, the young man slowly opened his eyes, and looked round with a dreamy glance, at the faces beside him. " Companion !" he muttered, as his glance fell on Wagnerj •*is she saved ?" "There, stop talking!" cried the soldier, with a glow ijL his cheeks, " stop that talking, I say." " Ah ! comrade, you are there," he murmured, "and she — she is — gone 1 I remember I" As he uttered these words, \\hich were almost inaudible^ the cheeks of Falconbridge flushed, and then turned white again: a convulsion passed over his fi*ame, and made the hot blood gush from his bosom. With a faint attempt to rise, he fell back with a low cry into the arms of Lord Fair- fax, whose strength seemed about to desert him. "Rouse! rouse! my child!" he exclaimed in an agony of despair; "do not die without looking at your father— it will loll me!" And the grim Earl strained the fainting and languid form to his fcxeast so wildly, that it seemed to infuse a par- kion of his own life into Falconbtidge. He slowly opened his eyes. His glance fell upon the face of George, which was bathed in tears. The boy held hie irhite cold hand, and kneeling, pressed it to his throbbing beari The wandering eye of Falconbridge arrested itself M it fell upon the agitated countenance — his lips moved^ Kkd he endeavored, vainly, to speak. **Bend your ear to his lips, George," groaned Wagner, ^ Wi goiJDg, and kee mi eonmibhing to BflCT*" 893 fAnoPAZ; George qalcHy obeyed, and placed his ear to the Ptomih of Palconbridge. "I am dying," was the low murmur; "I am going — to leave you, George I I always loved you — dear companion — as I know that you loved me I Tou will do me a last favor," he said, raising his hand feebly to the locket on his breast; " see that I am buried on the mountain yonder — ^by the pine which — we looked at on that autumn day — and bury her be- side me 1 — ^this locket — it contains a woman's hair — ^her hair —don't let them remove it from my bosom, George 1" "Oh, no I I swear it! I will protect it with my lifel" exdaimed the weeping youth. "And now, farewell!" murmured Falconbridge, a sor- rowfal smile passing over his pale face; "I am dying — ^am 1 not?" " It won't be long V' muttered Captain Wagner^ his fiery eyes moistened with tears; "five minutes I give him ! — mis- erable day ! Oh, why did he ever come on the trail! Fal- conbridge ! Falconbridge ! look here, comrade 1 Look ai Wagner, who's crying like a baby at your knees!" The young man heard the appeal of the Borderer, and turned his eyes upon his face. " Friend 1 — ^true and tried I" he murmured, faintly, " we must part I Eemember me — when I am gone !" "Bemember you! Until my grave is dug, 111 love and think of you, my boy, and cherish youl My heart is bleed- ing, look youl — ^my poor old heart!" He stopped, overcome by emotion. The face of Falconbridge grew soft and serene: then a •light color came to the pale cheeks; and by a great effort he turned his eyes in the direction of Miss Argal's body, and faintly stretched out his hands. "He wants to have her by him when he goes!" groaned the Borderer; "he s faithful to the death 1" And the soldier rose quickly, and going to the spot whert Am pak, cold kftm of the young lady lay, took it in hia THE MASTER OF GREEKWAY COURT. 393 arms, and brought it to the side of Falconbridge. The face of the Borderer was white, and his frame shuddered, as he thus held close to his breast the body of the woman whom he had seen so often, smiling and beaTatiful in life. Bat he did not falter — ^he deposited the inanimate figure at the side of the youth. As the eyes of the dying man fell upon the pale features fehe exquisite face, as of one who was sleeping tranquilly and hi^ppily, his lip quivered, and a tremor agitated him, DEtaMng the blood well, in a crimson stream, from the wound in his bosom. " She is gone before me I" he murmured in a whisper; " is the day about to wane, companion?^ — this darkness I 'Til a giand, beautiful world — with its flowers and sunshine 1 — but — another land I — see how it shines above me as I gol" These words were his last. With a final movement, which exhausted all his strength, he bent toward the dead body of the young lady, and encircling it with his arms, died with his head upon her bosom. 804 rmnFAX ; Oft, CHAPTEK LXXY. THE DAUGHTES OF THE CTAB8. ••ITH the death of him who has illustokted ow poor pages more than all his co-mates, the ohrcmi" cle might fitly terminate. Falconbridge once dead, his figure removed, hii •yes no longer dwelling upon the prairie, the mountain, and the river, — both the scene and the actors appear dreary and sad: the life of the drama Has departed. But we linger for a brief space before bidding the reader larewelL The vortex which drew into its bloody depths so many forms, did not spare, in its final effect, awther being. j^Tie bodies of the whites and savages, who had been slain, wete buried; and the hunters, at the head of whom rode tbe Earl and Captain WagTier, returned towtkxd Greenway Court Scarcely a word was uttered by the two leaders upon the march. They scarcely turned their heads, for, in a litter of b©ughs behind them, wore borne the dead bodies of Bertha Argal, and Falconbridge. Then a procession of hunters, bearing a litter upon their Aoulders, ascended the mountain, and the young man and the gir^ ^^re laid at the foot of the great pine which he had looked ftt that day,— beneath whose shadow be had wished to be buried. The cavalcade returned to the lowland agaia — €dlent and Borro\vful; all were thinking of the youth maiden who were sleeping their last sleep. One murmur, alone, was mingled with the hoof-strokes ot &e horsea. The leader of the troop» with white« oold lip^ Then, manj days afterward, tlie silence of ^Jie moimtain fastness was broken by the noise of a horseman ascending the winding road to the dwelling, which we have visited more than once. This horseman is George. He is going to see Cannie^ and his face is very pale: — ^for the child is lying dangerously BI The exposure upon the march with the Indians had ag- gravated, terribly, her tendency to disease of the lungs; and soon after her return, she had been seized with an acute at* taci. A physician had been hastily sent for fi-om the settle- ment east of the Blue Eidge; but after an examination of Ihe condition of the sufferer, he had shaken his head, and turned away hopelessly. The disease had invaded the vital organs, and the death of the child was only a question of time. She lingered until the cold, sad winter had passed away, tUl the violets of spring were blooming in the grass, till the birds were carolling in the mild blue sky, which drooped like a canopy above i;he headlands and rivers, and the prairie glittering with a million flowers. Then the life of the Httle sufferer waned rapidly. George was ever beside her — controlling the sobs which tried to force their way from his lips — and smiling upon •* her hopefully and sweetly. She knew how much he had loved her now — she knew ihai this love had increased until it came to be a portion of his Ufe. She would often take his hand, and with smiles of deep t^ndemess, and swimming eyes, thank the boy for his kindness and goodness, through all the days since he had met her, and saved her life. And George would laugh and chide her for her sorrowful air — for her talk about dying, and seeing her ' 4ast violets" — then his feelings would overcome him, and throwing himself down on his knees at her feet he would hide his 396 FAIEFAX; OR, face in the counterpane and sob : or press his quivering lip to the little white hand, and cry like a child, until he was exhausted. Beside her, day and night, the old graw-haired man watched her every movement — the color in her cheeks — the quick, short breaths — the brows knit at times with sudden and acute pain. His life seemed absorbed in his child ; and as her strength became weaker and weaker, his very heart's blood seemed to ebb away with her own. Thus the winter waned away, and the spring came gladly — but it brought no life to Cannie. She had clearly drawn near to that mysterious world which lies beyond the stars, and yet only a step from every human being. Lying serenely on the little white couch be- side the window, she resembled rather a pure white flower than a mortal maiden — a snow-drop, delicate and fragile, and transient — which the first breath of wind would blow away. She would lie thus for hours with the old man's hand in her own, gazing out on the wild landscape of mountain and gorge, with a dreamy smile — very happy it seemed, in some thought, which came to her ; wholy willing to submit to the fate to which now awaited her at any instant. At last the invisible hand was stretched out. It was a beautiful evening of May. The sinking sun threw a flush of crimson light on the opposite mountain — on the lofty pines — and far down on the gliding waters of the Shenandoah, the "Daughter of the Stars," which murmured and died away, as the soft breeze of evening came and went, bearing up from the prairie the delicate odor of flowers. "The time has come, dear, for me to leave you," she said faintly ; "don't grieve for me, grandpapa — I shall be happy, and I will meet you in heaven." He pressed his lips with sudden agony to her thin white hand— but the low soft voiQ© again begged him not to griey^ for h^y, THE MASTEB OF aREEITWAT OOUBT. 89? As she spoke, she saw George come at a swift gallop ap the mountain and her check flushed gladly. He was soon beside her. "I thought I never should see yon any more," ^he mniw mui'ed, smiling; "I am going away from you, George." The young man sobbed and fell almost powerless upon luB knees at the bedside. "Oh do not I do not speak thus I" he said; " you will live I you will live to be my own ! oh, you must not die 1" "God has called me," she answered; "I cannot stay. Be- member me, grandpapa, and George, when I am gone — ^re- member little Cannie, who loved you so 1 — who — will meet you where — suffering never comes 1" She never spoke again. Bending over her couch, they caught her last sigh. The old man clasped his hands, and slowly raising his ey^s to heaven, murmured with a low, tenible groan: "God take the spirit of my child, and may I follow her I" George buried his face in the coimteipane, and pressing his lips wildly to the pale cold hand, only moaned. When he rose and looked at her with streaming eyes, she was smiling upon him, even in death. Thus she passed away, Hke a flower, a leaf, a dream of the spring, — and they laid her as she had desired them— by the side of Falconbridge. The story of her hfe became known to the inhabitants of the region, and it was said that a young gentleman from the low country had nearly died ol grief. Then a song began to float about, set to i l rintive music — the production it may be of some native bard, of some youth, who was touched by the pathetic story, and who, personating George, sang his grief and despair. He sang it in these simple and unpolished lines, which, handed down traditionally, tell of the sweetness and tenderness il tbe maiden — the sorrow of her lover: '* Down on the BbMMndoiii roring^ 8M fUBTAX; oiv Oftimie l>y my side, dear and loTin^w Now she is laughing there no more Bright as a snnbeam on the monntain: Fair as the lily by her side, Fresh as the water in the fonntein. Wis Cannie, my yoxmg Virginia bxid« Oh 1 all the world is sad and dreary Nothing brings me solace aU the day— Daytime and night-time 1 am weary— C5annie's forever gone away I <«Long time I loved her; now a-roaming Wide o'er the world cold and poor, Ofttimes T think I see her eoming, Ofttimes I hear her by the shore 1" Such were the homely lines, to which were attached thk chorus, full of pathos; " Oh she was an angel, Last year she died, ToU the beU, a funeral knell For my young Virginia bride !" The melody was sad and plaintive — ^like the whisper of the wind in the mountain pines — the sigh of the autumn breeze in the broomstraw at twilight; — like the gentle and murmurous lapse of the waves, as they glide away beneath drooping boughs, or under the bending flowers of th« meadows. By the side of her cousin, whom she had loved so dearlj, near the grave of Falconbridge, the pure and noble, thi child thus serenely slumbered. In the \ast wild sohtude, on the brow of the great precipice, beneath the outstretched arms of the mighty pine, which bent in the wind, or swayed under the feet of the eagle, these children of nature »lept in peace. A £ew words will terminate our chronicle. not XASXSB or obxenwax ooms. 399 LXXVl THB HEABT OF LOKD FAIRFAX TNCE th© events which we have related, mow than thirty years have passed. The month of October, 1781, ia di*awing to ita close. In a house in Winchester, a man of about eighty, with long gray hair, thickly powdered ; a thin, worn countenance, bearing the marks of illness; and an attenuated figure clad in a richly embroidered dressing-go^oi, sits in a large arm- chair, supported by pillows, extending his hands from time to time toward a cheerful blaze in the wide fireplace. At three paces from him, erect, silent, and watchful, standa an old servant, with hair as gray as his master's, but a face still hale and ruddy in spite of his great age. " John," says the invalid, in a thin, weak voice. " My lord." And the old servant approaches his master. " What noise was that, which I heard ? They were shout- tag in the street, I thought Has any intelligence arrived from the army? You came in a moment ago, and must be informed. What intelligence ? " Old John hesitates. Upon hi? countenance it is easy to read an expression of acute pain. "Speak!" Lord Fairfax says, in his weak and falteriiig Toice. "Lord ComwaUis has not evacuated Torktown f It is not possible 1" " No my lord," is the low reply. -Wh*tth«nr 40O FAIEFAX OB, John hesitates again. His master turns toward him witli querulous energy. " Am I to have a reply, or are you dumb ? " he says. Old John sighs, and looks at Lord Fairfax with deep ftffiection and sympathy. "The news is bad, my lord," he says, "and I would rather not tell it." " Bad ? speak ! I am not a baby 1 ComwaUis has not ©Tacutated Yorktown, you sav — what then ?" Worse than that, my lord." Lord Fairfax rose suddenly erect in his chair. " "Worse ? what do you mmsk ?" Old John groans this tim* " I thought to keep the news from you, my lord. But you order me to speak, and I obey your order. My lord, Comwallis has surrendered his army." Surrendered! " "¥es, my lord!" groans old John. **To George Washington?" "Yes, my lord." Lord Fairfax sinks back, and a groan of inexpressible an- guish tears its way from the trembling breast. " That boy ! that boy !" he murmurs, " the child whom I brought up! The EngHsh dominion in North America overturned by that curly pate 1" A spasm passes over the features of the old earl, as ho utters these words. He totters in his chair. Suddenly he extends his arms toward the old servant, closes his eyeo^ and murmurs. "Take me to bed, John, it is time forme to diel"* Bix months afterwards he was dead. * HIT wovte m MASTER OF GREENWAt CCUB^C 4dl Lxxm THB HEAET OF GEOR^B. MONTH after this scene — that is to mj, in No- vember, 1781 — a cavalier coming from the east by way of Ashby's gap, forded the Shenandoah, and entered the Valley. He was a man of about fifty, tall, powerful, as straight as an arrow, and with something proud and imposing in his appearance and carriage. His eyes were clear and pene- trating, his lips firm, the poise of the head indicative of command. He wore the full dress uniform of a general ol the American army, and rode an excellent horse, which went along gaily beneath his powerful rider, through the Novem- ber sunshine. Passing to the left of the Httle village of Millwood, the stranger threw a glance toward " Saratoga," the residence of General Morgan, which was seen on a hill across the woods, on his right; then he continued his way, reached the town of White Post, turned to the left at the post, which still stood in the main street, and pushing on, reached Greenway Court, in its great lawn, backed by woods. Dismounting in front of the deserted mansion, the stran- ger tethered his horse to a bough, pushed open the decayed door, aiid entered the house. All was silent and dreary. The rooms were bare and Aesulate. The panes of the windows were broken; the spi- ders had woven their webs everywhere; and the dust lay half an inch d^^ep on the discolored floor. Tke stranger gazed around him for a moment Throw a 402 gknce toward ih(> stau'cawe, as if he thought of ascending itj out apparently gave up the design, and a moment aft.e3> wards left the house, going back to his horse. He had not uttered a word With a parting glance at th« mansion, he mounted, and rode in the directiju of th^ Mask^inutton. He crossed the river, and enter^.d the gorge, along th« bank of Passage Creek, as the sun was declining. I^ifihing on, as though he were afi'pid of being benighted, he followed the narrow and winding road iip the slope of th<> mouutaiii, and in half an hour came in front of a smal house, witli a great rock at its back. A moment afterward, he had dismounted, approached the house, and forced an entrance through the creaking door. The house was deserted. Some broken fumitore aloni indicated that it had once been occupied. The strangef looked around him with painful earnestness, and then went toward a small apartment, upon one side of the main room, his heavy heels armed with huge spurs clashing upon the decayed floor, and arousing a hundred echoes. The smaller apartment was bare like the larger, but the stranger suddenly stooped and picked tip an object from the floor. It was a smaU portion of a woman's or a child'a ruffle, apparently — such as at that period decorated the up- per edge of the bodice An imperceptible tremor passed over the stalwart frame of the personage as he gazed at the object in his hand; then having satisfied his curiosity ap- parei tly, he placed it in his bosom. Returning to the front door of the mansion, he cast a final look around him, taking in at a glance every feature, every detaiL All was ruinous, deserted; the spot had a melan eholy air about it — and the stranger slowly remounted hii borse, and left it, muttering: THE MASTER OF GREENWAY COURT. 403 can scarcely realize that it is the samel" Instead of retui^ning by the same road, he directed his way along a devious bridle-path toward a mighty pine which raised its trunk against the sky, on the very summit of the mountain, at the point where it sank suddenly into the valley. After great exertion, his horse stumbling fre- quently, he reached a spot beyond which it seemed impos- sible to proceed. He solved the difficulty by dismounting and advancing on foot. Even then the ascent was arduous. The huge masses of granite were piled up like a Titanic pyramid, but he finally surmounted all obstacles and reached the foot of the great pine. It grew in a narrow patch of soil, encircled by rocks at its foot were three graves, marked by moss-covered slabs of marble. The stranger stopped to breathe for an instant, and his glance swept the immense horizon of mountain, valley and river. From his great elevation he looked down upon a vast extent of country stretched beneath him like a map, and the view was sublime in its wild magnificence. But the wanderer had evidently come with no intention to gaze at the landscape. He dwelt upon it for a moment only — then his glance was directed toward the grave-stones. He stooped down, and pushing aside the moss, read the inscription upon the largest of the three. The inscription was as follows : '^Beneath this ftone lies Edmun-d Viscoukt Fairfax, only fon of Thomas Lord Fairfax, of Denton, England God rest him^ The stranger gazed long and sorrowfully upon the words, recalling plainly some scenes of the past which the name on the stone suggested. His head drooped, and a deep sigh issued from his lips as he murmured: 404 PAIEFAX; OR, ''There lies the noblest heart I have ever known — a great, true sole full of kindness and honor — a gentleman of the antique days of knighthood. Yes, yes, God rest him ! The Supreme, the All-seing, the Eewarder of charity and love, and faith — has He not received to his eternal rest this noble suflEering soul? Who was ever like him? I have met with no other human being so great ! Falconbridge ! Falcon- bridge ! your death was a glorious one ! You died as you had lived — a true gentleman!" The head drooped lower as these almost inaudible words escaped from the lips of the stranger. He remained for some time, gazing at the stone, his shoulders drooping, his breast heaving — then drawing a long breath, he fixed his eyes upon the one beside it, which bore this incription only ''To the memory of Bertha Argal, Beautiful and unhappy." "Yes, yes," the stranger murmured, "very beautiful — very unhappy — poor child of misfortune !" And his sad glance wandered toward the third tomb- stone. He seemed almost to dread deciphering it — but set- ing his lips close, knelt down and read what was cut upon the marble. These were the words : "Here lies the body of C'akkie, the daughter of an Englifh gentleman : Born in England, May the 10th, 17 , Died in Virginia, May the 9th, 1749. ^And he took them up.in his arms^ put his hands upon theniy and blessed them,' The stranger riveted his eyes uponthis inscription with an expression of such anguish that it was plain the stone covered a great sorrow. His broad breast was shaken, his THE MASTER OP GREEKWAY COURT. 405 near, penetrating eyes slowly filled with tears, and liis cheeks flushed with passionate emotion. Mastered by a sudden impulse, he took from his pocket a'pencil, and after the words: "Here lies the body of Cakkie ..." wrote, in addition: . . ."And the heart of George," Born in Weftmoreland, Virginia, February 22d, 1733: Died the fame day and hour, May 9th, 1749. As the stranger finished the addition to the inscription two tears roUed'down his cheeks, and fell upon the stone. Burying his face in the long grass growing upon the grave he sobbed, rather than said, in a hoarse and broken voice : "Farewell youth! farewell happiness! farewell dream of my boyhood ! The earth is dreary since you went away. Farewell until we meet again!" ^ THE EKD. THE LION AND THE MOUSE The Great Story by Arthur Homblow. Novelized from Charles Klein's Play. A timely and thrilling story of American life and conditions to-day. The home and family hfe of the world's richest citizen — the menace of the Money Peril — the heroic struggle of a daughter to save her father, a judge of the Supreme Court, from the clutches of the giant Trusts — the barter of the United States Senate — the money value of a human heart — all this is woven into a fascinating story that never lags a moment from cover to cover. It is more than a novel. It is a book to make men and women think. Beautiful illustrations. Richly bound in red and gold. (60th thousand.) $1.50. THE END OF THE GAME. A Story of American Life By Arthur Hornblow, author of the novel ''The Lion and the Mouse," from Charles Klein's Play. ^ A powerful and admirably written story of intense human interest, deahng with the complex game of hfe — ^its vicissitudes, its sorrows, its joys, its disappointments and its triumphs. This masterful novel is likely to meet with even greater success than Arthur Horn- blow's last book, ''The Lion and the Mouse," which is in its 60th thousand, 12mo, cloth bound, illustrated, $1.50. CHAMPION. The Story of a Motor Car By John Colin Dane. The story, which is a varied one of villainy, treachery, fun, frolic, and love, is told by the car itself. The treacherous love of one woman, and the crowning truthful love of another, lend sentiment to the throbbing interest of a telling tale. How the car is stolen, how it comes into the service of thieves and swindlers, how it descends into genteel poverty, how it becomes the toy of a charming American beauty — ^all is told entrancingly in this autobiography of an automobile. With 8 illustrations, $1.50. THE MARRIAGE OF MRS. MERLIN By Charles Stokes Wayne. The remarkable originality of this story, through the author's deft art, is sure to command at- tention. Mrs. Merhn, a rich widow, with no thought of love, bargains for a second husband for companionship in her travels abroad. The complex occurrences and final results are woven together in a brilliant manner, making it a book to be read with exquisite pleasure. Illustrations by Louis F, Grant. 12mo, cloth bound, $1.25. PRINCE KARL By Archibald Clavering Gunter. Novelized from the play in which Richard Mansfield appeared before more than two miUion people. With a strong heart interest, brimful of humor, it is a story not to be laid aside until finisher*. Its great popularity as a play must give the book an immei<<;4 I2m>, cloth bound, with frontispiece illustration, $L25. I CHIP OF THE FLYING U By B. M. Bower. From the opening chapter to its last page an eminent critic pronounces it as equal if not better than the * Virginian.' " The name of B. M. Bower will stand for something readable in the estimation of every man and almost every woman who reads this story of Montana ranch and its dwellers. Illustrated, 12mo, cloth bound, $1.25. THE RANGE DWELLERS. A ThriUing Western Story By B. M. Bower, author of "Chip of the Flying U." It is a thoroughly hve story, with plenty of local color well laid on. Its people have marked characteristics, its scenes change rapidly, it possesses breeziness and a wealth of wholesome love, and its conclusion is satisfying. 12mo, cloth bound, illus- trated, $1.25. HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT By B. M. Bower, author of "Chip of the Flying U," "The Range Dwellers, etc. A breezy, western ranch story. It sparkles in reproducing the atmosphere of the West. Strong heart interest and a beautifully pictured love story make it a most charming book and a fit companion to *'Chip " and "The Range Dwellers." 12mo, cloth boimd, with mustrations in three colors, $1.25. THE LURE OF THE DIM TRAILS By B. M. Bower, author of "Chip of the Flying U,'' "Her Prairie Knight," "The Range Dwellers," etc. A hving, breathing story of the West, out beyond the Mississippi, where the trails of men are dim and far apart. This is the best story that the author of "Chip of the Flying U " has written, and the three full-page three-color drawings, and over thirty pen and ink mar- ginal pictures by Charles M. Russell (the cowboy artist), with which the book is embellished, make it a handsome book. 12mo, cloth bound, decorative cover, $1.50. WHERE THE RED VOLLEYS POURED. A Romance of the Civil War By Charles W. Dahlinger. The patriotism, chivalry, and romance of the most eventful period in American history, vividly presented in the character and experiences of a typical soldier of the time — Paul Didier, a German revolutionary exile, who enlists in the Union cause. The story begins with reminiscence of the same nature and in the same charming vein as Carl Schurz's recent autobiography. It insidiously develops into a love romance, which is complicated by the hero's provoking susceptibility to feminine charms. A solution is finally reached amid the thunders of Gettysburg, a battle which the author describes with the pen of a dramatic historian. 12mo, cloth, illustrated, $1.50. a CHIP OF THE FLYING U By B. M. Bower. From the opening chapter to its last page an eminent critic pronoimces it as equal if not better than the * Virginian/ The name of B. M. Bower will stand for something readable in the estimation of every man and almost every woman who reads this story of Montana ranch and its dwellers. Illustrated, 12mo, cloth bound, $1.25. THE RANGE DWELLERS. A Thrilling Western Story By B. M. Bower, author of ''Chip of the Flying U.'' It ia a thoroughly live story, with plenty of local color well laid on. Its people have marked characteristics, its scenes change rapidly, it possesses breeziness and a wealth of wholesome love, and its conclusion is satisfying. 12mo, cloth bound, illus- trated, $1.25. HER PRAIRIE KNIGHT By B. M. Bower, author of ''Chip of the Flying U," "The Range Dwellers," etc. A breezy, western ranch story. It sparkles in reproducing the atmosphere of the West. Strong heart interest and a beautifully pictured love story make it a most charming book and a fit companion to "Chip " and "The Range Dwellers.'' 12mo, cloth bound, with illustrations in three colors, $1.25. THE LURE OF THE DIM TRAILS By B. M. Bower, author of "Chip of the Flying U," "Her Prairie Knight," "The Range Dwellers,'' etc. A hving, breathing story of the West, out beyond the Mississippi, where the trails of men are dim and far apart. This is the best story that the author of "Chip of the Flying U " has written, and the three full-page three-color drawings, and over thirty pen and ink mar- ginal pictures by Charles M. Russell (the cowboy artist), with which the book is embellished, make it a handsome book. 12mo, cloth bound, decorative cover, $1.50. WHERE THE RED VOLLEYS POURED. A Romance of the Civil War By Charles W. Dahlinger. The patriotism, chivalry, and romance of the most eventful period in American history, vividly presented in the character and experiences of a typical soldier of the time — Paul Didier, a German revolutionary exile, who enlists in the Union cause. The story begins with reminiscence of the same nature and in the same charming vein as Carl Schurz's recent autobiography. It insidiously develops into a love romance, which is complicated by the hero's provoking susceptibihty to feminine charms. A solution is finally reached amid the thunders of Gettysburg, a battle which the authof describes with the pea of a dc^smatio tuAtcffian. 12000. fJtTthL ia««trat«d, $1.60. 9 TRAFFIC. The Story of a Faithful Woman By E. Temple Thurston, author of ''The Apple of Eden/' Do you want to meet a character that will hold your sympathies spellbound? Do you want to come face to face with some of the knotty, searching problems of our modern hfe? The reader will find all this in ''Traffic," one of the biggest and most com- pelling stories of the past decade. Throughout Nanno Troy's life problem is interwoven that question which is to-day of such absorbing interest: the attitude of the Church toward divorce. In no work of modern fiction is this attitude and its tendencies more graphically portrayed. 12mo, cloth bound, $1.50. THE STORY OF PAUL JONES By Alfred Henry Lewis. Thousands and tens of thousands should welcome this charming historical romance. It is a great story of the fortunes of the intrepid sailor whose remains are now in America. A story that should find a place ih every library, for it is the best book that Mr. Lewis has yet produced. It has a grip and a fascination that will last long after the reader has emerged from its dehghtful spell. 12mo, cloth bound, illustrated, $1.50. TONIO, SON OF THE SIERRAS By General Charles King. This thrilling frontier story has for its central figure a young army girl with two lovers, brother officers and classmates, and an Indian chief of the Chief Joseph type, honorable, incorruptible, but dragged, as was Joseph, into a net of testimony and intrigue that nearly wrecked him. 12mo, cloth bound, illustrated, $1.50. THE LINCOLN STORY BOOK Compiled by Henry L. Williams. A judicious collection of the best stories and anecdotes of the great President, many, of the more than 600, appearing herein for the first time. 12mo, 320 pages, cloth bound, $1.50 net. Postage 14 cents. WHAT'S IN A DREAM. A Scientific and Practical Interpretation of Dreams By Gustavus Hindman Miller. The most complete and exhaustive work that has ever been Avritten on this subject — it contains over 10,000 dreams. The author has used material from the Bible, classical sources, and medieval and modern philosophers. Quotations have been made from Camille Flammarion's ' ^ Un- laaown." The Preface is a valuable feature of the book and touches in an interestuig way on the metaphysical New Thought School. 12mo, 600 pages, cloth bound, $1.50. 4 KATHERINE'S SHEAVES By Mrs. George Sheldon Downs. The author tells in a motst fascinating manner of Katherine's trials and triumphs which cannot fail to hold the interest of the reader, even though she is not in sympathy with Katherine's cause. This book places Mrs. Downs in the front rank of those who have written popular scientific novels. Cloth bound, $1.25. STEP BY STEP By Mrs. George Sheldon Downs, author of ^^Katherine^s Sheaves/' Judged as a story, pure and simple, ''Step by Step is altogether dehghtful. But it is not merely a charming piece of fiction. Ethical in its nature, the underlying thought shows throughout the lofty purpose and high ideals of the author and exhales a wholesome atmosphere, while the element of romance per- vading it is both elevated and enriched by its purity and simplicity. 12mo, cloth bound, illustrated, $1.50. THE GOLD WORSHIPERS By Harris Burland. Author of ''The Black Motor Car," ''The Financier," etc. In the way of exciting fiction there could be nothing more discreetly sensational than this story. It fairly bristles with wonderful incidents. 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THE BOTTOM OF THE WELL By Frederick Upham Adams, Author of " John Burt," " The Kid- napped Millionaires," " John Henry Smith," etc. The reading pubHc which has been awaiting this long promised book from Mr. Adams would not thank us for lifting the curtain which conceals the mysteries contained in the grim walls of "The Well," neither would we be excused for hinting at the nature of Amos Buckingham's task in "The Laboratory." This re- markable book has a grip and a fascination which will last long after the reader has emerged from its delightful spell. 12mo, cloth bound, illustrated, $1.50. IKEY'S LETTERS TO HIS FATHER By the author of " John Henry," etc. A clever eompilfttioti ©f letters written by a young man on his first tour as a traveling salesman for his father. The young man seems to know everything but business, and he finds it hard to explain to his parent that he must spend money to increase the reputation of the house. 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