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Page 212


“This murderous shaft that's shot,
Hath not yet lighted; and our safest way
Is to avoid the aim. Therefere to horse,
And let us not be dainty of leave-taking.”


The Greeks and Romans had their lucky and unlucky
days; and whatever name we give to the alternations
of life, we believe that the experence of
every family, and individual, will attest the clustering
of joys or woes at marked periods. The
day of Magawisca's trial was eventful, and long
remembered in the annals of the Fletcher family.
Indeed, every one in any way associated with
them, seems to have participated in the influences
of their ruling star. Each member of Governor
Winthrop's household appeared to be moving
in a world of his own, and to be utterly absorbed
in his own projects and hopes.

Miss Downing was for a long time closeted with
her uncle and aunt; then a great bustle ensued,
and emissaries went to and fro, from Madam
Winthrop's apartment; Madam Winthrop herself
forgot her usual stateliness and dignified composure,
and hurried from one apartment to another
with quick footsteps and a disturbed countenance.


Page 213
The Governor was heard pacing up and
down his study, in earnest conversation with the
elder Fletcher. Everell had gone out, leaving directions
with a servant to say to his father, or any
one who should inquire for him, that he should
not return till the next day. Hope Leslie resisted
all her aunt's efforts to interest her in a string of
pearls, which she intended for a wedding gift for
Esther; “but,” Mrs. Grafton said, wreathing them
into Hope's hair, “her heart misgave her, they looked
so much prettier peeping out from among Hope's
wavy locks, than they would on Esther's sleek
hair.” The agitation of Hope's spirits was manifest,
but (we grieve to unveil her infirmities) that,
in her, excited no more attention than a change
of weather in an April day. She read one moment—worked
the next—and the next, was devoting
herself with earnest affection to the amusement
of her pining sister; then she would suddenly
break off from her, and take a few turns in the
garden: in short, confusion had suddenly intruded
within the dominion of order, and usurped
the government of all his subjects.

In the evening the surface of affairs, at least,
bore a more tranquil aspect. The family all assembled
in the parlour as usual, excepting Miss
Leslie and Cradock, who had retired to the study,
to look over a translation from the Italian, which
Hope just recollected her tutor had never revised.

Faith Leslie sat on a cushion beside the door,
in a state of vacancy and listlessness, into which


Page 214
she seemed to have hopelessly sunk, after the
first violent emotions that succeeded her return.
The ladies were plying their needles at the table:
Miss Downing, pale as a statue, moved her hand
mechanically, and Mrs. Grafton had just remarked,
that she had seen her put her needle twelve
times in the same place, when fortunately for her,
any further notice of her abstraction was averted
by a rap at the outer door, and a servant admitted
a stranger who, without heeding a request that he
would remain in the portico till the Governor
should be summoned, advanced to the parlour
door. He sent a keen scrutinizing glance around
the room, and on every individual in it, and then
fixing his eye on the Governor, he bent his head
low, with an expression of deferential supplication.

His appearance was that of extreme wretchedness,
and, as all who saw him thought, indicated
a shipwrecked sailor. His face and figure were
youthful, and his eye bright, but his skin was of
a sickly ashen hue. He had on his head a sailor's
woollen cap, drawn down to his eyes in part, as it
seemed, to defend a wound he had received on
his temple, and about which, and to the rim of
his cap that covered it, there adhered clotted
blood. His dress was an over-coat of coarse
frieze cloth, much torn and weather beaten, and
strapped around his waist with a leathern girdle;
his throat was covered with a cotton handkerchief,
knotted in sailor-fashion, and his legs and
feet were bare.


Page 215

To the Governor's inquiry of “who are you,
friend?” and “what do you want?” he replied,
in an unknown language, and with a low rapid
enunciation. At the first sound of his voice,
Faith Leslie sprang to her feet, but instantly sunk
back again on the cushion, and apparently returned
to her former abstraction.

Governor Winthrop eyed the stranger narrowly.
“I think, brother Fletcher,” he said, “this
man has the Italian lineaments; perhaps, Master
Cradock may understand his language, as he is
well versed in all the dialects of the kingdoms of
Italy. Robin,” he added, “bid Master Cradock
come hither.”

“Master Cradock has gone out, sir, an please
you, some minutes since, with Miss Leslie.”

“Gone out—with Miss Leslie—whither?”

“I do not know, sir. The young lady bid me
say she had gone to a friend's, and should not return
till late. She begged Mrs. Jennet might be
in waiting for her.”

“This is somewhat unseasonable,” said the
Governor, looking at his watch; “it is now almost
nine; but I believe,” he added, in kind
consideration of Mr. Fletcher's feelings, “we
may trust your wild-wood bird; her flights are
somewhat devious, but her instincts are safer than
I once thought them.”

“Trust her—yes, indeed,” exclaimed Mrs.
Grafton, catching the word that implied distrust.
“But I wonder,” she added, going to the window,


Page 216
and looking anxiously abroad, “that she
should venture out this dark night, with nobody
but that blind beetle of a Cradock to attend her;
however, I suppose she is safe, if she but keep on
the main land, as I think you say the wolves come
no more over the neck.”

“They certainly will not come any where within
the bounds that our lamb is likely to stray,”
said Mr. Fletcher.

The Governor's care again recurred to the
mendicant stranger, who now signified, by intelligible
gestures, that he both wanted food and
sleep. Every apartment in the Governor's house
was occupied; but it was a rule with him, that
admitted of no exception, that his shelter should
never be denied to the wanderer, nor his charities
to the poor; and, accordingly, after some
consultation with the executive department of his
domestic government, a flock-bed was ordered
to be spread on the kitchen floor, and a meal provided,
on which, we observe en passant, the
stranger did extraordinary execution.

When the result of these charitable deliberations
was signified to him, he expressed his gratitude
by the most animated gestures, and, seeming
involuntarily to recur to the natural organ of
communication, he uttered, in his low and rapid
manner, several sentences, which appeared, from
the direction of his eye, and his repeated bows,
to be addressed to his benefactor.


Page 217

“Enough, enough,” said the Governor, interpreting
his words by a wave of his hand, which
signified to the mendicant that he was to follow
Robin to the kitchen. There we must leave him
to achieve, in due time, an object involving most
momentous consequences, while we follow on the
trail of our heroine, whose excursive habits have
so often compelled us to deviate from the straight
line of narration.

Hope had retired to the study with Master
Cradock, where she delighted her tutor with her
seemingly profound attention to his criticisms on
her Italian author. “You see, Miss Hope Leslie,”
he said, intent on illustrating a difficult passage,
“the point here lies in this, that Orlando hesitates
whether to go to the rescue of Beatrice.”

“Ah, stop there, Master Cradock, you speak
an admonition to me. You have yourself told
me, the Romans believed that words spoken by
those ignorant of their affairs, but applicable to
them, were good or bad omens.”

“True, true—you do honour your tutor beyond
his deserts, in treasuring these little classical
notices, that it hath been my rare privilege to
plant in your mind. But how were my words an
admonition to you, Miss Hope Leslie?”

“By reminding me of a duty to a friend who
sadly needs my help—and thine too, my good tutor.”

“My help!—your friend! It shall be as freely


Page 218
granted as Jonathan's was to David, or Orpheus'
to Eurydice.”

“The task to be done,” said Hope, while she
could not forbear laughing at Cradock's comparing
himself to the master of music, “is not very unlike
that of Orpheus.” But we have no time to
lose—put on your cloak, Master Cradock, while I
tell Robin what to say if we are inquired for.”

“My cloak! you forget we are in the summer
solstice; and the evening is somewhat over sultry,
so that even now, with my common habiliments,
I am in a drip.”

“So much the more need to guard against the
evening air,” said Hope, who had her own secret
and urgent reasons for insisting on the cloak;
“put on the cloak, Master Cradock, and move
quick, and softly, for I would pass out without notice
from the family.”

A Moslem would as soon have thought of resisting
fate, as Cradock of opposing a wish of his
young mistress, which only involved his own comfort,
so he cloaked himself, while Hope flew to the
kitchen, gave her orders, and threw on her hat
and shawl, which she had taken care to have at
hand. They then passed through the hall, and
beyond the court, without attracting observation.

Cradock was so absorbed in the extraordinary
happiness of being selected as the confidential
aid and companion of his favourite, that he would
have followed her to the world's end, without


Page 219
question, if she had not herself turned the direction
of his thoughts.

“It is like yourself,” she said, “my good tutor,
to obey the call of humanity, without inquiring in
whose behalf it comes; and I think you will not
be the less prompt to follow the dictates of your
own heart, and my wishes, when I tell you that
I am leading you to poor Magawisca's prison.”

“Ah! the Indian woman, concerning whom I
have heard much colloquy. I would, in truth, be
fain to see her, and speak to her such comfortable
words and counsels, as may, with a blessing,
touch the heathen's heart. You have, doubtless,
Miss Hope, provided yourself with a passport from
the Governor,” he added, for almost the first time
in his life looking at the business part of a transaction.

“Master Cradock, I did not esteem that essential.”

“Oh! but it is; and if you will abide here one
moment, I will hasten back and procure it,” he
said, in his simplicity never suspecting that Miss
Leslie's omission was any thing other than an

“Nay, nay, Master Cradock,” she replied, laying
her hand on his arm, “it is too late now: my
heart is set on this visit to the unhappy prisoner
—and if you were to go back, Madam Winthrop,
or my aunt, or somebody else, might deem the
hour unseasonable. Leave it all to me—I will
manage with Barnaby Tuttle; and when we return,


Page 220
be assured, I will take all the blame, if there
is any, on myself.”

“No, that you shall not—it shall fall on my
grey head, where there should be wisdom, and not
on your youth, which lacketh discretion”—`and
lacketh nought else,' he murmured to himself;
and, without any further hesitation, he acquiesced
in proceeding onward.

They arrived, without hindrance, at the jail,
and knocked a long time for admittance at
that part of the tenement occupied by our friend
Barnaby, without his appearing. Hope became
impatient, and bidding Cradock follow her, she
passed through the passage, and opened the door
of Barnaby's apartment.

He was engaged in what he still called his `family
exercise;' though, by the death of his wife,
and the marriage of his only child, he was the sole
remnant of that corporation. On seeing our heroine,
he gave her a familiar nod of recognition,
and by an equally intelligible sign, he demonstrated
his desire that she should seat herself, and
join in his devotions, which he was just closing,
by singing a psalm, versified by himself; for honest
Barnaby, after his own humble fashion, was
a disciple of the tuneful Nine. Hope assented,
and, with the best grace she could command, accompanied
him through twelve stanzas of long,
and very irregular metre, which he, obligingly,
gave out, line by line. When this, on Hope's
part, extempore worship was finished, “Welcome


Page 221
here, and many thanks, Miss Leslie,” said Barnaby,
“it's a good sign to find a prepared heart and
ready voice. Service to you, Master Cradock,
you are not gifted in psalmody, I see.”

“Not in the outward manifestation, but the
inward feeling is, I trust, vouchsafed to me. My
heart hath taken part in the fag end of your

“A pretty similitude truly, Master Cradock,
and a token for good is it when the appetite is
always sharp set for such a feast. But come,
Miss Leslie,” raking open the embers, “draw up
your chair, and warm your dear little feet. She
looks pale yet after her sickness, ha, Master Cradock?
You should not have come forth in the
evening air—not but what I am right glad to see
you—the sight of you always brings to mind your
kindness to the dead and the living. You have
not been here, I think, since the night of Ruthy's
wedding—that puts me in mind that I got a letter
from Ruthy to-day. I'll read it to you,” he
continued, taking off his spectacles, and giving
them a preparatory wipe—“Ruthy is quite handy
with her pen—takes after the Tuttles in that:
you know, Miss Leslie, my great-grandfather
wrote a book.”

“Yes,” said Hope, interrupting him, and rising
“and I trust his great-grandson will live to write

“Sit down, Miss Leslie—it may be—those of
as humble a degree as Barnaby Tuttle have written


Page 222
books; and writing runs in families, like the
king's evil”—and Barnaby laughed at his own
witty illustration—“but sit down, Miss Leslie, I
must read Ruthy's letter to you.”

“Not now, good Barnaby; let me take it home
with me; it is getting late, and I have a favour
to ask of you.”

“A favour to ask of me!—ask any thing, my
pretty mistress, that's in the power of Barnaby
Tuttle to grant. Ah! Mr. Cradock, there's nobody
knows what I owe her—what she did for my
wife when she laid on her death-bed, and all for
nothing but our thanks and prayers.”

“Oh, you forget that your wife had once been
a servant to my dear mother.”

“Yes, yes, but only in the common way, and
there's few that would have thought of it again.
It's not my way to speak with flattering lips, but
truly, Miss Hope Leslie, you seem to be one of
those that does not to others that it may be
done to you again.”

“Oh, my good friend Barnaby, you speak this
praise in the wrong time, for I have even now
come, as I told you, to beg a favour on the score
of old friendship.”

“It shall be done—it shall be done,” said Barnaby,
snapping his fingers, his most energetic
gesture; “be it what it may, it shall be done.”

“Oh, it is not so very much, but only, Barnaby,
I wish it quickly done, that we may return. I
want you to conduct Master Cradock and myself


Page 223
to your Indian prisoner, and leave us in her cell
for a short time.”

“Is that all! certainly—certainly,” and anxious
to make up for the smallness of the service by the
avidity of his compliance, Barnaby prepared his
lamp with unwonted activity. “Now we are
ready,” he said, “just show me your permit, and
we'll go without delay.”

Hope had flattered herself, that her old friend
in his eagerness to serve her, would dispense with
the ceremony of a passport from the Governor.
Agitated by this new and alarming obstacle, she
commanded her voice with difficulty to reply in
her usual tone. “How could I think it necessary
to bring a permit to you, who know me so
well, Barnaby?”

“Not necessary! that was an odd thought for
such an all-witted damsel as thou art, Miss Hope
Leslie. Not necessary, indeed! why I could not
let in the king if he were to come from his throne—
the king truly, he is but as his subjects now; but
if the first parliament man were to come here, I
could not let him in without a permit from the

Hope walked up and down the room, biting
her lips with vexation and disappointment. Every
moment's delay hazarded the final success of her
project. Poor Cradock now interposed with one
of his awkward movements which, though made
with the best will in the world, was sure to overturn
the burden he essayed to bear. “Be comforted,


Page 224
Miss Hope Leslie,” he said, “I am not so
nimble as I was in years past, but it is scarce fifteen
minutes walk to the Governor's, and I will
hasten thither, and get the needful paper.”

“Ay, ay, so do,” said Barnaby, “that will set
all right.”

“No,” cried Hope; “no, Master Cradock, you
shall not go. If Barnaby cannot render me this
little kindness, there is an end of it. I will give
it up. I shall never ask another favour of you,
Barnaby,” and she sat down, anxious and disappointed,
and burst into tears. Honest Barnaby
could not stand this. To see one so much his
superior—one who had been an angel of mercy
to his habitation—one who had a right to command
him in all permitted service, thrown into
such deep distress by his refusal of a favour which,
after all, there could be no harm in granting, he
could not endure.

“Well, well,” he said, after hesitating and
jingling his keys for a moment, “dry up your tears,
my young lady; a `wayward child,' they say, `will
have its way;' and they say too, `men's hearts
melt in women's tears,' and I believe it; come,
come along, you shall have your way.”

Hope now passed to the extreme of joy and
gratitude. “Bless you—bless you, Barnaby,” she
said, “I was sure you would not be cross to me.”

“Lord help us, child, no, there's no denying
you; but I do wish you was as thoughtful as Miss
Esther Downing; she never came without a permit—a


Page 225
good thing is consideration—you have
made me to do that which I trust not to do again
—step aside from known duty—but we're erring

Hope had the grace to pause one instant, and
to meditate a retreat before she had involved
others in sinning against their consciences; but
she had the end to be attained so much at heart,
and the faults to be committed by her agents
were of so light a dye, that the scale of her inclinations
soon preponderated, and she proceeded.
When they came to the door of the dungeon,—
“Hark to her,” said Barnaby; “is not that a
voice for psalmody?” Magawisca was singing in
her own language, in the most thrilling and plaintive
tones. Hope thought there could not be
darkness or imprisonment to such a spirit. “It is
in truth, Barnaby,” she replied, “a voice fit to
sing the praises of God.” Barnaby now turned
the bolts and opened the door, and as the feeble
ray of his lamp fell athwart the dungeon's gloom,
Hope perceived Magawisca sitting on her flock
bed, with a blanket wrapped around her. On
hearing their voices she had ceased her singing,
but she gave no other sign of her consciousness of
the presence of her visitors.

Miss Leslie took the lamp from Barnaby. “How
much time will you allow us?” she asked.

“Ten minutes.”

“Ten minutes! oh, more than that I pray you,
good Barnaby.”


Page 226

“Not one second more,” replied Barnaby, resolute
not to concede another inch of ground.
“There may be question of this matter—you
must consider, my dear young lady.”

“I will—always in future, I will, Barnaby; now
you may leave me.”

“Yes, yes, I understand,” said Barnaby, giving
a knowing nod. “You mind the scripture rule
about the right and the left hand—some creature
comfort to be given to the prisoner. I marvel that
ye bring Master Cradock with you, but in truth,
he hath no more eye nor ear than the wall.”

“Marvel not at any thing, Barnaby, but leave
me, and let my ten minutes be as long as the last
ten minutes before dinner.”

Hope, quick as she was in invention and action,
felt that she had a very brief space to effect her
purposed arrangements, and while she hesitated
as to the best mode of beginning, Cradock, who
nothing doubted he had been brought hither as a
ghostly teacher, asked whether “he should commence
with prayer or exhortation?”

“Neither—neither, Master Cradock—do just
as I bid you; you will not hesitate to help a fellow
creature out of deep, unmerited distress?”
this was uttered in a tone of half inquiry and half-assertion,
that enforced by Hope's earnest imploring
manner, quickened Cradock's slow apprehension.
She perceived the light was dawning
on his mind, and she turned from him to Magawisca:


Page 227
“Magawisca,” she said, stooping over
her, “rouse yourself—trust me—I have come to
release you.” She made no reply, nor movement:
“Oh! there is not a moment to lose.
Magawisca, listen to me—speak to me.”

“Thou didst once deceive and betray me,
Hope Leslie,” she replied, without raising her

Hope concisely explained the secret machinations
of Sir Philip, by which she had been made
the unconscious and innocent instrument of betraying
her. “Then, Hope Leslie,” she exclaimed,
rising from her abject seat, and throwing
off her blanket, “thy soul is unstained, and Everell
Fletcher's truth will not be linked to false-hood.”

Hope would have explained that her destiny
and Everell's were not to be interwoven, but she
had neither time nor heart for it. “You are too
generous, Magawisca,” she said, in a tremulous
tone, “to think of any one but yourself, now—we
have not a breath to lose—take this ribbon,” and
she untied her sash; “bind your hair tight with it,
so that you can draw Master Cradock's wig over
your head—you must exchange dresses with him.”

“Nay, Hope Leslie, I cannot leave another in
my net.”

“You must not hesitate, Magawisca—you will
be freed—he runs no risk, will suffer no harm—
Everell awaits you—speed, I pray you.” She


Page 228
turned to Cradock, “now, my good tutor,” she
said, in her most persuasive tones, “lend me your
aid, quickly—Magawisca must have the loan of
your wig, hat, boots, and cloak, and you must sit
down there on her bed, and let me wrap you in
her blanket.”

Cradock retreated to the wall, planted himself
against it, shut his eyes, and covered his ears with
his hands, that temptation might, at every entrance,
be quite shut out. “Oh! I scruple,
I scruple,” he articulated in a voice of the deepest

“Scruple not, dear Master Cradock,” replied
Hope, pulling down one of his hands, and holding
it between both hers, “no harm can, no harm
shall befall you.”

“Think not, sweet Miss Hope, it's for the
perishing body I am thoughtful; for thy sake I
would bare my neck to the slayer; to thy least
wish I would give the remnant of my days; but
I scruple if it be lawful for a Christian man to
lend this aid to an idolater.”

“Oh! is that all? we have no time to answer
such scruples now, but to-morrow, master Cradock,
I will show you that you greatly err;” and
as she said this, she proceeded, without any further
ceremony, to divest the old man of his wig,
which she very carefully adjusted on Magawisca's
head. Both parties were passive in her hands,
Magawisca not seeming to relish much better
than Cradock, the false character she was assuming.


Page 229
Such was Cradock's habitual deference to
his young mistress, that it was morally impossible
for him to make any physical resistance to her
movements: but neither his conscience, nor his
apprehensions for her, would permit him to be silent
when he felt a conviction that she was doing,
and he was suffering, an act that was a plain
transgression of a holy law.

“Stay thy hand,” he said, in a beseeching
voice, “and let not thy feet move so swiftly to destruction.”

“Just raise your foot, while I draw off this
boot, Master Cradock.”

He mechanically obeyed, but at the same time
continued his admonition: “Was not Jehoshaphat
reproved of Micaiah the prophet, for going
down to the help of Ahab?”

“Now the other foot, Master Cradock—there,
that will do. Draw them on, Magawisca, right
over your moccasins—quick, I beseech you.”

“Was not the good king Josiah reproved in the
matter of Pharaoh-nechoh?”

“Oh, Magawisca! how shall I ever make your
slender shoulders and straight back look any
thing like Master Cradock's broad, round shoulders?
One glance of Barnaby's dim old eyes will
detect you. Ah! this will do—I will bind the
pillow on with the sheet.” While she was uttering
the device, she accomplished it. She then
threw Magawisca's mantle over her expanded
shoulders, and Cradock's cloak over all; and,


Page 230
finally, the wig was surmounted by the old man's
steeple-crowned hat. “Now,” she said, almost
screaming with joy at the transformation so suddenly
effected, “now, Magawisca, all depends on
yourself: if you will but contrive to screen your
face, and shuffle a little in your gait, all will go

The hope of liberty—of deliverance from her
galling imprisonment—of escape beyond the power
and dominion of her enemies, had now taken
full possession of Magawisca; and the thought
that she should owe her release to Everell and to
Hope, who in her imagination was identified with
him, filled her with emotions of joy, resembling
those a saint may feel, when she sees in vision the
ministering angels sent to set her free from her
earthly prison: “I will do all thou shalt command
me, Hope Leslie; thou art indeed a spirit of
light, and love, and beauty.”

“True, true, true,” cried Cradock, losing, in
the instincts of his affection, the opposition he
had so valorously maintained, and his feelings
flowing back into their accustomed channel,
“Thou woman in man's attire, it is given to thee to
utter truth, even as of old, lying oracles were wont
to speak words of prophecy.”

Hope had not, as may be imagined, stood still
to listen to this long sentence, uttered in her tutor's
deliberate, entrecoupé manner, but in the
meanwhile she had, with an almost supernatural
celerity of movement, arranged every thing to


Page 231
present the same aspect as when Barnaby first
opened the door of the dungeon. She drew Cradock
to the bed, seated him there, and wrapped
the blanket about him as it had enveloped Magawisca.
“Oh! I hear Barnaby,” she exclaimed;
“dear Master Cradock, sit a little straighter—
there—that will do—turn a little more side ways,
you will not look so broad—there—that's better.”

“Miss Hope Leslie, ye have perverted the simple-minded.”

“Say not another word, Master Cradock; pray
do not breathe so like a truimpet; ah, I see it is my
fault.” She readjusted the blanket, which she
had drawn so close over the unresisting creature's
face as almost to suffocate him. “Now, Magawisca,
sit down on this stool—your back to the
door, close to Master Cradock, as if you were talking
with him.” All was now arranged to her
mind, and she spent the remaining half instant in
whispering consolations to Cradock: “Do not let
your heart fail you, my good kind tutor—in one
hour you shall be relieved.” Cradock would have
again explained that he was regardless of any
personal risk, but she interrupted him: “Nay,
you need not speak; I know that is not your present
care, but do not be troubled; we are commanded
to do good to all—the rain falleth on the
just and the unjust—and if we are to help our
enemy's ox out of the pit, much more our enemy.
This best of all thy kind services shall be requited.


Page 232
I will be a child to thy old age—hush—
there's Barnaby.”

She moved a few steps from the parties, and
when the jailer opened the door, she appeared to
be awaiting him: “Just in season, good Master
Tuttle; my tutor has nothing more to say, and I
am as impatient to go, as you are to have me

“It is only for your own sake that I am impatient,
Miss Hope; let us make all haste out.”
He took up the lamp which he had left in the
cell, trimmed it, and raised the wick, that it might
better serve to guide them through the dark passage.

Hope was alarmed by the sudden increase
of light—“lend me the lamp, Barnaby,” she
said, “to look for my glove—where can I have
dropped it? It must be somewhere about here.
I shall find it in a minute, Master Cradock, you
had best go on while I am looking.”

Magawisca obeyed the hint, while Hope in her
pretended search, so skilfully managed the light,
that not a ray of it touched Magawisca's face.
She had passed Barnaby—Hope thought the
worst danger escaped. “Ah, here it is,” she said,
and by way of precaution, she added, in the most
careless tone she could assume, “I will carry the
lamp for you, Barnaby.”

“No, no, thank you, Miss Leslie, I always like
to carry the light myself; and besides, I must


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take a good look at you both before I lock the
door. It is a rule I always observe in such
cases, lest I should be left to `brood the eggs the
fox has sucked.' It is a prudent rule I assure you,
always to be sure you take out the same you let in.
Here, Master Cradock, turn round, if you please,
to the light, just for form's sake.”

Magawisca had advanced several steps into the
passage, and Hope's first impulse was to scream
to her to run, but a second, and happier thought
prevailed, and taking her shawl, which was hanging
negligently over her arm, she contrived in
throwing it over her head, to sweep it across Barnaby's
lamp, in such a way as to extinguish the
light beyond the possibility of recovery, as Barnaby
proved, by vainly trying to blow it again into
a flame.

“Do not put yourself to any further trouble
about it, Barnaby, it was all my fault; but it matters
not, you know the way—just give me your
arm, and Master Cradock can take hold of my
shawl, and we shall grope through this passage
without any difficulty.”

Barnaby arranged himself as she suggested, and
then hoping her sudden action had broken the
chain of his thoughts, and determined he should
not have time to resume it, she said,—“When you
write to Ruth, Barnaby, be sure you commend me
kindly to her; and tell her, that I have done the
baby linen I promised her, and that I hope little


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Barnaby will prove as good a man as his grandfather.”

“Oh, thank ye, Miss Hope, I trust, by the blessing
of the Lord, much better; but they do say,”
added the old man, with a natural ancestral complacency,
“they do say he favours me; he's got
the true Tuttle chin, the little dog!”

“You cannot tell yet whether he is gifted in
psalmody, Barnaby?”

“La, Miss Hope, you must mean to joke. Why
little Barnaby is not five weeks old till next Wednesday
morning, half past three o'clock. But
I'm as sure he will take to psalmody as if I knew;
there never was a Tuttle that did not.”

Our heroine thus happily succeeded in beguiling
the way to the top of the staircase, where a passage
diverged to the outer door, and there with
many thanks, and assurances of future gratitude,
she bade Barnaby good night; and anticipating any
observation he might make of Cradock's silence,
she said, “my tutor seems to have fallen into one
of his reveries; but never mind, another time he
will remember to greet and thank you.”

Barnaby was turning away from the door, when
he recollected that the sudden extinction of the
candle had prevented his intended professional
inspection. “Miss Hope Leslie,” he cried, “be
so good as to stay one moment, while I get a
light; the night is so murky that I cannot see,
even here, the lineaments of Master Cradock's


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“Pshaw, Barnaby, for mercy's sake do not detain
us now for such an idle ceremony; you see the
lineaments of that form, I think; we must have
been witches indeed, to have transformed Magawisc's
slender person into that enormous bulk;
but one sense is as good as another—speak, Master
Cradock,” she added, relying on Magawisca's
discretion. “Oh, he is in one of his silent fits,
and a stroke of lightning would scarcely bring a
sound from him, so good night, Barnaby,” she
concluded, gently putting him back and shutting
the door.

`It is marvellous,' thought Barnaby, as he reluctantly
acquiesced in relinquishing the letter of
his duty, `how this young creature spins me round,
at her will, like a top. I think she keeps the key
to all hearts.'

With this natural reflection he retired to rest,
without taking the trouble to return to the dungeon,
which he would have done, if he had really
felt one apprehension of the fraud that had been
there perpetrated.

At the instant the prison door was closed,
Magawisca divested herself of her hideous disguise,
and proceeded on with Hope, to the place
where Everell was awaiting them, with the necessary
means to transport her beyond the danger of
pursuit. But while our heroine is hastening onward,
with a bounding step and exulting heart,
we must acquaint our readers with the cruel conspiracy
that was maturing against her.