University of Virginia Library

1. THE REGICIDES.
CHAPTER I.

It was a bitter afternoon in December, the
air was intensely keen and piercing, the snow
had indeed at length ceased falling, but the
heavens looked drear and wintry. The ponds
in the village of G—were all frozen, not with
that thin and glassy coating the first ray of
sunshine dissolves; a smooth and substantial surface
now bore the buoyant tread of the skaters.
A finer snow fall had not been known in the season,
the solid and beautiful substance lay in glittering
expanse, on gardens and meadows, hills
and dales, loading the trees with a new and feathery
foliage, and covering as with a mantle, every
deformity of the relentless season.

It was now four o'clock, as was evident from
the appearance of the common, in the centre of
the village, thronged with children who were
rushing delightedly from the walls of their literary
prison.

Education had not at that period reached its
present state of refinement; and the joyful groups
that now surrounded the school house, comprized
the whole juvenile population of the village,
without respect to the distinctions of age, rank,

or sex. A shout of eager merriment swelled in
the air as the boys surveyed for a moment the
brilliant expanse before them, and then plunged
recklessly into the cold and beautiful element,
dashing it about them, and venting in a thousand
joyous freaks the untamed sportiveness of their
spirits. But the feminine part of the company
still lingered around the door.

“Richard! Richard!” cried a rosy little damsel
on the platform, dressed in a green mantle
and hood, “Richard Leet, I would like to know
how Alice Weldon and myself are to walk home
through these drifts?”

“Ah! on your feet, to be sure,” replied the
courteous youth, at the same time saluting her
with a freshly molded ball. “Did you ever hear
of any other way of walking Susan?”

“I tell you, Richard,” continued the first impatiently,
“I shall freeze to death before we get
home, and as for poor little Alice she will perish
in the first drift. If Henry were only here,” she
added, gathering up a handful of snow, and vainly
seeking to revenge the insult, “I am sure he
would teach you to treat me more politely.”

“Oh there they are,” exclaimed a beautiful
child, who, clad in a scarlet coat with bonnet
and mittens of the same hue, stood gazing through
the window. “They have come at last.” And
with a spring of delight she appeared at the door,
her sweet and merry laugh still echoing through
the building.

`You will ride on my sled won't you Alice?”
shouted several voices at once, as a party of
them came running from an adjacent shed, dragging
their rude little vehicles swiftly after them.
These were quickly filled with their fair burthens,

but Alice still lingered on the step while the rest
continued in vain to urge her.

“Now you may as well hold your peace, every
one of you,” exclaimed a proud, fine looking lad,
who at that moment came up, his handsome features
glowing with exercise, “she will ride on my
sled, and I will snow-ball any one that interferes,
and bury him in the first drift. Say, Alice,” he
continued, softening his voice, “did you not promise
to ride with none but me?”

The little girl replied by springing on the sled,
and Henry after placing in her lap his Virgil and
dictionary, and exhorting her to hold fast, bounded
off over drift and pit, nor paused until they
had safely reached the gate of their home.

It was a large white building, about a quarter of
a mile distant from the common, surrounded with
trees now leafless and snow-clad, and presenting
an air of comfort and convenience unequaled in
the village. The smoke was curling warm and
blue from its chimneys; nevertheless the eyes of
our juvenile heroine and her knight, turned untempted
away;—to the warm and springing pulse
of childhood, there is many a merrier thing than
the sparkling of a winter's hearth.

The meadow on the opposite side of the street,
just in front of the well finished mansion before
which they now paused, was with the juvenile population,
at the present season of the year, a place of
extremely fashionable resort; and for two especial
reasons. The one, a hill that reared itself in the
center, and presented at this moment to the eyes
of the wistful gazers one unbroken and towering
mass of whiteness; the other, that broad and
famed expanse of water that stealing from the

adjacent wood now lay, stiff and glittering on the
plain.

“Oh, it would be such a triumph,” murmured
the proud boy to himself, “to have the first ride
on Briar hill. Better than the Latin premium itself.”
“Are you cold, Alice,” he continued,
turning hesitatingly to his little charge, “I mean
very cold.”

“Not very,” replied the child, but with a strong
accent on the qualifying word.

“Then we will have a beautiful ride,” continued
the other, darting impatiently across the way
just as the gay group he had left behind, appeared
slowly bringing up the rear.

An irritated and impatient shout burst from
them as they perceived the ambitious design.
“Don't let him beat us,” echoed in many an earnest
tone—but it was too late. Notwithstanding
his lovely little burthen, Henry Davenport toiled
rapidly up the precipitous ascent, arriving again
at the frozen pond just in time to welcome his
disappointed rivals.

A scene of the most exhilirating amusement
soon succeeded to the momentary chagrin. Sled
after sled, loaded to overflowing, descended
swiftly the steep declivity, bounding like things
of light over the frozen pond, and not unfrequently
landing its passengers in the high snow
drift beyond. Then was heard mingling with
the creaking snow, the loud and merry shout of
the spectators on the hill, and the laugh of the
fearless skaters, as they glided gracefully along
on their slippery footing.

But in the midst of this interval of exuberant
sport, there was a sudden pause.

“We never can have a moment's sliding,”

exclaimed Susan in a low vexed tone. “There
is some one coming from the house to warn us
in.”

“Don't be afraid,” answered Alice Weldon, as
she stood at the foot of the hill pulling the mittens
from her little rosy fingers and seeking to
relieve them from the intense cold by rubbing
them together. “It is no one but Margaret.”

“At all events, we'll have another slide,” muttered
the disappointed Richard. “Any body that
bears a message to me, can take the trouble to
come up the hill, I fancy.” The proposal seemed
to meet with universal approbation, and with
one accord the whole party scampered through the
snow till they had once more gained the summit.

The person whose appearance had excited so
much tumult, now rapidly approached. Judging
from the testimony of her extremely youthful
countenance, any one might have seen that she
herself had but recently emerged from an age,
when the amusement she was now contemplating,
would have been shared with enthusiastic pleasure.
As it was, a light and glad smile betokened
her sympathy. The complexion of the young
lady was exceedingly fair, a soft bloom gathered
over it as she toiled up the hill, light and clustering
curls lay on her forehead. The face was not
one of perfect beauty; and yet there was in the
light of her large blue eye, an expression of
feminine sweetness, which could not fail to render
that countenance lovely to those who met its
glance.

“Ah! you have come to take a ride with us,” exclaimed
Henry in a coaxing tone, as the young
lady joined the group.

“And in fine company, truly,” replied Miss
Weldon, laughing and shaking her head, though
her eye at the same moment, rested with a somewhat
wishful glance upon a party just then descending.
“A fine figure I should make, Henry,
sliding down hill with a party of truants like
yourself.

Susan Leet drew up her lip with scorn.

“Oh, but this once, Margaret, you cannot
think what beautiful sledding it is,” continued
Henry.

“Don't tease cousin,” whispered Susan maliciously.
“She is engaged to be married, you
know, and would not be seen riding down hill for
the world.

Miss Weldon reddened slightly. “I am invested
with authority to order you all from the
grounds,” she added in the same light and humorous
tone. “Come, gentlemen and ladies, you
are waited for at yonder mansion.”

“And we will give you a ride for your trouble,”
replied Henry, while Richard bounded down
the steep. “Do, do, Margaret,” he continued,
as the children crowded upon the sled.

“Ah, do, here is but just room enough for you
shouted several intreating voices; and the young
lady, after a hasty survey, perceiving no one in
sight, yielded at once to the natural gayety of
her heart, and they were instantly darting along
the declivity. After a short, almost precipitous
descent, the slope was long and gradual, and they
had leisure to survey the objects before them.

“Look, Margaret,” exclaimed Susan, at that
moment directing her eye to the road beneath.
“Do you not see that gentleman looking at us so
earnestly? Mr. Russel, as I live,” she continued,

with an uncontrollable burst of laughter at the
idea of her cousin's mortification, “and two more,
coming the other way. Oh, Margaret, what can
you say to the minister?”

“Stop the sled, Henry;—let me get off, I intreat
you,” rapidly articulated the young lady;
but a moment's reflection convinced her that
neither the one nor the other of these intreaties
could be complied with, without danger to the
limbs and lives of the whole party; and while the
provoking little Susan seemed to exult in her embarrassment,
laughing until her eyes streamed
with tears, she was compelled to go on unresistingly.

“Good evening to you, Miss Weldon,” exclaimed
a well dressed youth, who approached
the party just as the young lady had arisen from
the bank, and stood shaking the snow from her
dark mantle. The countenance of the young
student was interesting, and at this moment almost
handsome, for the sparkling flush of exercise
had gathered over its usual paleness.
“You must have had a charming ride, Miss
Weldon,” he continued, with an expressive smile.
There was something slightly satirical both in
the look and tone of the speaker, and Margaret
Weldon was not the one to be ridiculed with
impunity; but the keen retort that trembled on
her lips was interrupted by the appearance of
the other personages whose ill-timed appearance
had created so much embarrassment.

These were travelers, as their well muffled appearance
sufficiently indicated; and a second
glance was sufficient to convince her that they
were not only strangers, but persons of a far
different stamp of character from those with

whom she was wont to associate. They were
both youthful in appearance. The elder and
shorter of the two, was completely enveloped in
the folds of a huge coarse over-coat; he wore on
his head a bear-skin cap, and a pair of well furred
moccasons protected his feet. Two small and
twinkling eyes were the only portions of his features
visible, through the double and triple coils
of worsted that surrounded them.

The other was attired much more carefully in
the style of a fashionable cavalier, and a cloak of
costly and gay materials was his protection from
the cold.

But Margaret had scarce time to make these
observations, ere the latter gentleman hastily addressed
her.

“Prythee, my pretty damsel, have pity on a
couple of errant and half frozen knights, and tell
us if a certain gentleman of the name of Leet
resideth hereabouts. We should have reached
his house ere this, or our directions deceive us.”

The style of address was evidently not relished
by the young lady, she drew up her slight form
with an air of dignity, replying with an expression
of cold politeness, to the forward advances of the
stranger.

“My uncle, sirs, the Governor of the Colony,
resides in this dwelling; whether he be the person
you seek, or not, as strangers, you are welcome
to his hospitality.”

There was no need of a second invitation, and
the whole party now entered the large enclosure
that surrounded the house. The snow had been
thrown up on either side from the long straight
gravel walks which led to the portico in front of
the building. Miss Weldon now conducted

them across an angle of the spacious hall and
throwing open the door, at once introduced them
into the keeping room of her uncle's family. The
apartment was large, unostentatiously but comfortably
furnished. A well polished book-case
mounted on a chest of drawers, occupied one
corner of the room, and a mahogany cased clock
another; while that on the remote side from the
fire, was filled by an enormous cupboard, the
door of which was now thrown open, revealing
rare treasures of porcelain and silver. But the
apartment contained objects of far higher interest
to the cold and hungry travelers; a large round
table in the center of the room, spread with a
snow white cloth and covered with various dishes,
and on the hearth a huge blaze, that, roaring and
sparkling in the capacious chimney, diffused a light
and pleasant glow throughout the whole apartment.
Little Susan, at the moment of their entrance,
was engaged in throwing down the long
chintz curtains, and as the candles had not yet
made their appearance, the objects of the room
were only illuminated by the brilliant fire light.
The other children, having previously effected
their escape to the house, were now seated around
the hearth, engaged in satisfying their hunger,
each from a bowl of bread and milk.

There were no other persons present, and Miss
Weldon, after placing chairs for her guests near
the grateful blaze, and laying aside her hat and
cloak, was hastening to leave the apartment.

Just at this moment the door she was approaching
opened, and an elderly, pleasant-looking matron
made her appearance. The good lady paused
in considerable surprise at the sight of her unexpected
guests.

“Mr. Russel, aunt,” said Miss Weldon, in
rather an embarrassed tone, as she met her glance
of perplexed inquiry,” “and the strangers,” she
added in a still lower voice, “are strangers as
much to me as to yourself.”

The young student was received with an air
of the most cordial welcome, and from the character
of the smile which at that moment illumined
the benevolent countenance of Mrs. Leet, there
seemed some peculiar claim upon her kindness
and affection.

In reply to the urgent invitations of their hostess
the strangers assured her that their business
allowed of slight delay, and that they had yet
many miles to travel ere their journey was accomplished,
repeating also the request for an immediate
interview with the Governor of the Colony.

“He is coming,” exclaimed Richard, who now
re-appeared from the hall; and the next moment
the master of the house presented himself. His
figure was singularly erect, rather inclining to
corpulency, and the frosts of time had fallen
thickly on his head. The countenance, while it
was marked with a degree of shrewdness and
good humor, exhibited a certain unyielding look,
which perhaps formed its most striking characteristic.

He advanced slowly to the fire deigning only a
single glance towards his guests, and drawing the
shovel from its resting place in the corner, began
deliberately to separate from his boots the particles
of snow that still clung to them.

“Here is Mr. Russel, my dear,” exclaimed
Mrs. Leet reprovingly, “just come from New-Haven,
in spite of cold and snow.”

“Ah, ah, good evening to you, Mr. Russel,”
replied the old gentleman, casting another slight
glance upon him, and again resuming his employment.
“The blood must be younger in your
veins than in mine, Mr. Russel.”

“The supper has waited for you, some time,”
continued Mrs. Leet, in the same tone of gentle
admonition, “and these gentlemen are anxious
to see you on business.”

“Supper and business,” continued the governor,
directing, as he spoke, one of his keen and quick
glances upon the strangers. “We will take our
supper first, Mrs. Leet, and talk of business hereafter.
No objections, sirs, I hope,” he added, as
the knight of the blue cloak was about to attempt
a remonstrance. “I attend to no business until
we have taken our repast,” and he set down the
shovel with an emphatic air. “Come, gentlemen,
doff your cloaks,” he added in rather a more
gracious tone, as the smoking dishes made their
appearance, “sit down with us, and I am at your
service.”

The tone of decision was not to be resisted;
and without further preamble, the strangers prepared
to comply with the peremptory invitation.
The table presented, in a small space, a variety
of cheer seldom surpassed in more sumptuous
and costly entertainments; some alterations and
additions had indeed been made since the entrance
of the visiters, and the whole now exhibited
an assemblage of inviting fare, which it
would have been hard for the famished guests to
have refused. We grieve to say that these observations
were principally made by the strangers
during the Governor's fervent petition for a heavenly
blessing on their repast, which was in truth

protracted to an unusual length, though the whole
family joined in it with expressions of apparent
devotion. The quick and rather impatient Amen
which the young gentlemen uttered at its conclusion,
failed not to draw upon them the admiring
glances of the children by the fireside, and a
gentle expression of surprise from the fair damsel
who presided at the board. The attention of the
strangers, however, was too much absorbed by
the important occupation before them, to notice
any unfavorable impressions that might have
been made, and they now laid about them with
an air, that evinced a prudent determination to
make the best of their delay.

“You have had a long journey,” said Mrs.
Leet, in an inquiring tone, as she pressed upon
her guests the unnecessary invitation to make
themselves at home in her dwelling. “You must
have been out in the storm, I presume.”

“We were, madam,” replied the younger
stranger, pausing a moment in his employment,
“our journey has lasted since the early dawn,
and I fear is likely to last until another.”

“You are going further, then?” continued Mrs.
Leet, in whose gentle heart a slight sensation of
the curious began to awaken.

“We think of it madam,” replied the elder,
interrupting his companion's more courteous reply.
There was now another pause, and Mrs.
Leet seemed revolving in her mind, how it might
best be broken.

“We shall be sorry to see you go forth from the
shelter of our roof to night Mr.—Pardon me
Sir, I have forgotten your name.”

“Kellond, at your service, madam,—Thomas
Kellond, and my friend Mr. Kirk.”

“Ah! thank you—let me help you to a bit of
this cold chicken Mr. Kellond, you must have
found but poor accommodations on your route.
You dined at Middletown, I presume Sir,” continued
Mrs. Leet.

“We ate our last meal at Hartford, madam,”
replied Mr. Kellond, “and certainly had nothing
to complain of, for we were greeted with the best
cheer the Governor of the colony could afford.”

Governor Leet who had till this moment affected
perfect indifference to the communications of
the strangers, now lifted his large blue eyes, fixing
them alternately upon each of his unknown
guests, with a gaze of deep and fluctuating curiosity.
A conversation which he had previously
maintained with Mr. Russel, was however quickly
resumed, though from time to time an anxious
glance at the strangers, intimated a greater degree
of interest in their communications than he
chose to express.

The repast was at length completed, and, the
table having been removed to a less conspicuous
station, the family again encircled the fire. Meanwhile
every thing had been arranged according
to the well established rules of the household. A
fresh supply of fuel crackled on the neatly swept
hearth, the stand, the lights and the books, were
all in waiting. On the other side of the fire place,
the children surrounded a low round table, pursuing
their respective avocations with an air of
decorum, which contrasted strongly with the frolics
on the hill. Susan Leet sat with a demure
countenance, knitting a pair of woolen hose for
her brother, while the latter leaned, with frowning
brows, upon his slate, beside her, flourishing
his pencil with many a threatening manœuvre,

over the mysterious problems beneath. The youth
did indeed occasionally pause amid his mathematical
reveries, to examine into the conduct of
an intelligent kitten sporting beneath the table, at
that moment dextrously engaged with Susan's
ball, and amusing her fancy with the graceful undulations
of the long white thread, as it darted
across her way.

But no such trivial sport had power to arrest
the attention of Henry Davenport, as he bowed
his young head over the classic page. His hand
supported his forehead, straying among the dark
and beautiful locks that shaded it, and whenever
the eye of the youthful scholar was for a moment
lifted, there was that in its deep lustre that told
of a mind fitted to revel among the rich fountains
of ancient lore, gifted with the inspiration of exalted
fancy, and the energy of a daring spirit.

Alice Weldon, whose history is woven with our
tale, sat in a low chair beside him, in the first
bloom of infant thoughts and feelings, and with
the tints of cradle dreams still bright in her young
fancy. Her eyes seemed intent on the personages
who now surrounded the fire, their naturally
pensive expression often vanishing amid smiles
and dimples, as she met their glances in return.
Indeed there were others who now began to survey
the scene with much interest.

Governor Leet, after exchanging his boots for
slippers, had seated himself by the opposite stand;
the candles were snuffed, the spectacles wiped
and replaced, and he now seemed waiting with the
most comfortable composure, for any commmunications
that might be made. The silence of curious
expectation pervaded the whole apartment,
interrupted only by the slight and occasional

ringing of the China cups, as Mrs. Leet carefully
wiped and replaced them on the waiter.

Considerable hesitation seemed to exist with
the strangers, as to which of them should first open
their embassy; but at length the elder, who had
hitherto maintained an air of studied reserve, broke
silence.

“Governor Leet, the business with which we
are intrusted, is of an official and private nature;
it would be well that we had fewer witnesses.”

“No one here but my family, I believe,”
exclaimed the old gentleman, his eye passing
in rapid review over the circle, “unless, indeed,
we except this young friend of ours,” and
his eye rested on Mr. Russel. “But we reckon
him about as good as one of us,” he added,
with an expression of pleasantry, which brought
the blood in richer tides to Miss Weldon's cheek.
“I beg your pardon, sir, but I believe we are all
to be trusted.”

“Nevertheless you must be aware, sir,” replied
Mr. Kirk, as he drew forth a large pocket book,
“that there are certain undertakings which need
to be executed with secrecy and despatch, in order
to insure them success.”

“Perfectly, sir,” rejoined the Governor quickly,
as the young gentleman, after carefully examining
the contents of the pocket book, presented
him with a folded paper. The Governor glanced
anxiously over it, and those who were watching
his countenance perceived that it became instantly
and strongly flushed. His natural composure
of aspect was however soon resumed, and he
began in a low whisper to examine its contents.

Miss Weldon was seated at the opposite side of
the stand on which her uncle leaned, and she became

instantly aware that the kind of humming
tone into which the whisper had gradually swelled,
was not the unconscious and unnecessary sound
it seemed. With the quickness of female penetration,
she at once perceived that there was
something in the contents of the paper, which her
uncle desired her to understand. The frill she
was working, dropped from her hand, and leaning
her head over the table she listened with breathless
interest to the voice of the reader. After a
short suspension, the low murinur again commenced,
but as yet, she caught nothing but a
confused mingling of words. Presently the
sounds became more distinct, and the words
“treason and rebellion,” were plainly distinguished.
Then was another pause, and then distinctly
followed, “And we do hereby authorize and appoint
our true and loyal subjects”—

“Governor Leet,” exclaimed Mr. Kirk hastily,
“you must be aware that the revealing of state
secrets, may be attended with serious consequences.”

“Aye, aye, true, Mr. Kirk,” replied the old
gentleman, with an air of provoking affability;
and he was silent for a few minutes. Then
as if unconsciously relapsing again into his former
tone, “And we do hereby command”—
“Governors and magistrates of said colonies”
—“all possible measures”—“imprisonment
of said regicides, and”—“denounce as rebels”
—“harbor and secrete said Whalley and Goff”
—“who in any wise seek to defeat said Thomas
Kirk and Thomas Kellond, in the accomplishment
of this our royal mandate.”

The voice again sunk into its inaudible murmur;
but Margaret Weldon had heard enough.

The Governor now re-folded the paper, and casting
a single glance at his niece, again placed it
in the hand of its owner.

“And what service is required of me?” he asked,
turning again to the English cavaliers who had
impatiently waited for his conclusion.

“Governor Leet,” rejoined Mr. Kirk, his formal
and moderate tones slightly quickened with
anger, “You must be aware that in compelling
us to hold our conversation in this public manner,
you debar us from any opportunity of making
those demands our occasions may require. It
cannot be expected that we should speak of our
embassy, without a due degree of precaution.”

“Richard, my son, tell Willy to build a fire in
the other room. Beg your pardon, gentlemen,
don't be uneasy, we shall soon be able to discuss
the matter privately.”

“It may be advisable for us to spare you this
trouble,” interrupted Mr. Kellond, as Richard
prepared to obey. “Our most important demand
is that horses may forthwith be procured for us
to proceed on our journey. The Governor of
Connecticut hath forwarded us thus far, and we
are dependent upon your good offices for the remainder
of the journey.” Several minutes' silence
succeeded this declaration.

“Governor Leet,” rejoined Mr. Kirk impatiently,
“it only remains for you to inform us,
whether you choose to furnish us with conveniences
for traveling.”

“As to that I cannot answer immediately,” replied
the Governor thoughtfully. “It must be
dangerous for man or beast to cross the West
Hollow to-night. How was it Mr. Russel?”

“The drifts had obstructed the way so completely,”

replied the student, “that had I not
been entirely familiar with it, I should inevitably
have lost the track.”

“I am sorry to inform you,” continued the Governor,
addressing the strangers, “that my best
horse is at this moment disabled, and the other
two have been at hard sledding all the day. They
are out of the question, that is if I expect to see
them alive again. Nay, Mr. Kirk, the road is a
wretched one, and I would be sorry to risk the
neck of the best conditioned horse in the Colony.”

“But, father, there is the sorrel colt,” cried
Richard, throwing down his pencil, and preparing
to enter with spirit into the merits of the
case.

“Please attend to your slate, Master Richard,”
replied the old gentleman, rather impatiently;
“but by the bye, the suggestion is not so bad,”
he continued with apparent hesitation. “The
sorrel colt—yes—it will do well—he is a vicious,
fractious thing, and the sooner his neck is broken
the better. That is, provided he breaks no neck
but his own.

“An excellent proviso, sir,” interrupted Mr.
Kellond, “but as it would be rather an untoward
circumstance that both Mr. Kirk and myself
should fall with him, I propose that my companion
here do mount the animal, while I proceed on
foot after him, and then in case of any ill-timed
display of temper, one of us at least would survive
to accomplish the embassy. Also, from
what you have mentioned concerning the disposition
of the beast, I should deem it extremely
unlikely that he would for a moment tolerate any

additional burthen to what my friend Mr. Kirk
would furnish.”

“Me!”—exclaimed Mr. Kirk, with an ill concealed
expression of disnay. “I do not know
whether you are in jes, Mr. Kellond,—if you
are not, I know of no reason why your neck
should be held in higher estimation than my
own.”

“But to cut the matter short,” continued the
Governor, “I propose that you remain under
this roof for the night, and in the morning, as
early as you please, you shall be furnished with
accommodations for traveling.” The gentlemen
glanced for a moment hesitatingly upon each
other.

“We accept of your hospitable invitation, sir,”
replied Mr. Kellond, “upon condition that you
despatch no one from your roof this night, with
intelligence of our errand.”

“Certainly, young man, I promise you that no
one leaves my roof this night, unless it be of his
own free will and accord; and moreover, I give
you my word that nothing concerning your embassy
shall be repeated by me to any one.

Miss Weldon's countenance at that moment
grew pale at the thought of the fearful responsibility
so suddenly devolved upon her; for she
was conscious that no other persons in the apartment
had overheard enough of their communications
to form any clue to the nature of their errand.
She felt that, to her exertions alone, her
uncle trusted, for conveying the intelligence of
this new warrant to the unfortunate exiles who
were its objects, and with the pride and heroism
of a young heart she resolved to endure any peril
rather than disappoint that confidence.

Of the present condition of the banished judges
she knew little. Their general history was indeed
familiar to all; that they had boldly stood
up for the rights of conscience and freedom
in their native land, even until the blood of a
royal martyr had stained their path; that they had
once ranked high in that proud army whose valor
had awed the nations, and were now driven helpless
and exiled, seeking succor amid men of the
same name and faith with themselves, and men
who professed the same high principles of action;
these were facts familiar to all. Neither
was she unaware that the regicides were at this
moment concealed in the village of New-Haven,
having been driven from their original place of
refuge, by the intelligence of an act of pardon
excluding them from its privileges, and a warrant
authorizing his majesty's subjects to apprehend
them wheresoever they might be. She was aware
also that the chief men of the colony favored their
concealment among them, affording them various
disguises; and she believed that in one of these
she herself had once seen them, though unconscious
of it, at the moment of their interview.

To communicate to the Rev. Mr. Davenport
the intelligence she had thus singularly acquired,
seemed the only method of averting their ruin.
This must also be effected before morning, and it
only remained that she should speedily resolve
upon a proper messenger. At first thought, the
embassy seemed of too delicate a nature to be entrusted
to a second person, and she determined
herself to brave the inclemency of the weather
and in spite of snow and cold, to obtain this night
an audience of Mr. Davenport. But a recollection
of the fearful drifts that impeded the way,

soon convinced her that this would be a mere
waste of life and courage. Margaret Weldon was
a betrothed bride; and her eye soon rested on
one who combined in her estimation, all the necessary
qualifications, for so difficult an undertaking.

The evening now wore slowly away. There
had been a considerable effort, on the part of the
governor to sustain a conversation with his
guests; but they now seemed to have exhausted
all peaceable topics and none appeared willing
to interrupt the awkward silence. In spite
of efforts at cordiality, mutual distrust and suspicion
evidently existed between them.

An appearance of the evening refreshment
consisting of nuts and apples did indeed restore a
slight degree of cheerfulness, and during the period
employed in partaking of it, Miss Weldon
left the apartment. Presently after, a light knock
was heard on the outer door.

“It is a person wishing to speak with Mr. Russel”
said the servant, who having but just entered
from the kitchen, hastened to obey the summons.

“Ask him to walk in then, Clara,” said the
governor, “and don't stand with the door open.”

“I have, sir,” replied the servant, “but Mr.
Russel is requested to step to the door.” The
gentleman thus called for, now taking a lamp
made his way to the hall, closing after him the
door of the parlour. A female figure well wrapped
in a mantle, with bonnet so large as entirely
to conceal her features, was standing in the portico.

“Samuel,” said the sweet voice of Margaret
Weldon, for it was none other than she, “Samuel
Russel, I pray you close the door, and listen to me;

I have much to tell you.” The youth could scarce
refrain from an exclamation of surprise, but he
immediately complied with her request.

“Margaret, you are wild, I am sure you are,”
he exclaimed in a subdued voice as he stepped
into the portico.

“I assure you, Samuel I could find no other way
of doing my errand; for the strangers were watching
every movement so suspiciously I dared not
to send for you. But there is no time for apologies.
The gentlemen in the parlour are those
despatched in search of Whalley and Goffe, the
papers they gave uncle Leet is the warrant for
their arrest, and unless we can communicate with
them this night, to-morrow the judges will fall into
their hands. Uncle Leet has, as you know,
given them his word that he will make no exertions
in their behalf, but Samuel, you and I are private
individuals, and we need not fear that our
conduct should draw upon the whole colony the
anger of the king.”

“You speak nobly, Margaret; I will proceed
immediately to New-Haven, and warn them of
their danger, but there are many things to be
considered. The strangers will be constantly on
the watch during the night and certainly will not
suffer any one to leave the enclosure unnoticed.
I doubt not their suspicions are all awake, and
even could I succeed in effecting my escape, my
absence in the morning would reveal the secret.”

“You must set out,” replied Margaret quickly,
“as soon as the gentlemen leave the parlour, and
before they have time to reconnoitre you will be
out upon the main road. And as for the morning,
I fancy the strangers will wait for a slice or two;
and you will be back to an early breakfast.”

“Nay, Margaret, but it is quite impossible,”
replied the young gentleman, almost shuddering
at the idea of the perils he had so recently escaped,
“it is quite impossible that I should return
again on foot, and as to horses, they seem totally
out of the question.”

“But the sorrel is not so bad,” continued Margaret,
repressing a smile, “I do think that uncle
has slandered him a little. But Samuel we are
talking too long. If you will go, the horse shall
be ready for you at the other door. The moment
they leave the parlor make your way into the kitchen,
and I will see that it is cleared of spectators.”
Mr. Russel had scarce time to assent to these propositions,
ere Margaret had vanished from the
steps, disappearing the next moment around the
corner of the mansion.

It was not until the hour of evening prayer that
Miss Weldon again made her appearance. There
was an expression of deep concern on her countenance;
and Mr. Russel saw that her hand trembled
slightly, as she leaned upon it while the
governor read aloud from the pages of the sacred
word. The portion selected was from the holy
melodies of the sweet singer of Israel, a lesson
beautifully appropriate to the state of the persecuted
exiles, and there was something in its
promises of heavenly protection that fell soft and
soothing on the troubled hearts of some who
heard it. Neither was the prayer that ensued
better calculated to allay the prejudices of the
strangers. It forgot not the afflicted, the banished,
the outcast; and there was a pathos, and even
sublimity of expression, in the fervent entreaty
that God would remember those, to whom man
had forgotten to be gracious.

Immediately after the conclusion of the evening
devotions, Margaret again left the apartment,
directing as she passed a slight and quick
glance towards the student.

The tedious evening had now drawn to a close;
and the governor with a heavy yawn failed not to
testify his pleasure at the signal for retirement.

The moment the door of the parlor had closed
upon the strangers, Mr. Russel hastened to fulfil
his appointment. As he entered the kitchen,
Miss Weldon was standing by the fire and his
coat and cloak hanging over the chair beside her.
There was no time for ceremony, and while the
young man was casing his feet in the warm double
socks that had been provided for him, Miss Weldon
hastily tied around his neck the fold of an
enormous worsted tippet, like what in these days,
would be styled a comforter. In addition to all
the other articles of clothing, she now essayed to
throw over him a huge drab cloak or rather blanket,
sufficiently ample in its dimensions to envelope
his whole person; but this last act of
her authority Mr. Russel prepared to resist with a
considerable degree of firmness.

“Margaret, it is unbeseeming my character;
it looks precisely like an Indian's blanket, indeed
I will not wear it.”

“But you must, Samuel,” replied the other in a
whisper. “I borrowed it of Indian Jack on purpose
for a disguise; and whoever meets you now
will never dream that it is not he,” but with all
her anxiety, the young lady could scarce refrain
from a smile at the awkward appearance of her
lover. But the occasion was too serious for the
indulgence of mirth, and throwing open the door
she pointed to the identical little sorrel, whose

unfortunate eccentricity of character had been
so faithfully portrayed by the Governor, tied to a
post of the shed and gazing indignantly around
him. The moon was partially obscured; but the
reflection from the snow rendered every object
visible.

“Speak gently to him—he will never bear to
be scolded,” said Margaret, in a suppressed whisper,
“and now, Samuel, heaven speed you.” In a
moment after the sorrel and his burthen moved
swiftly down the avenue; and Miss Weldon refered
to her apartment, without further communication
with the family.